


Immunity

by Eien_Ni



Series: The Poison Inside My Veins [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Emotional Manipulation, Manipulation, Multi, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-17
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 06:38:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3559862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eien_Ni/pseuds/Eien_Ni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since Lydia was bitten by Peter and then forced to resurrect him, she has wanted nothing more than to escape the supernatural life in which she found herself immersed. But situations - car accidents, hunters, stalkers - are making it difficult. Not to mention her conflicted feelings for Peter, who may or may not just be using her. When push comes to shove, Lydia discovers that manipulation is sometimes the only way to go.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began planning this series at the end of season 2. Therefore, basically everything in here is inaccurate according to canon. This fic begins at the same time as [Hallucination](http://archiveofourown.org/works/635983/chapters/1151694) [chapter six.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/635983/chapters/1260790) I recommend that you read that fic first so you can have a better understanding of the events in this one.
> 
> I understand that Pydia isn't a favorite pairing of some people, but this helps build up to the rest of the series, as it explains several things.
> 
> My [tumblr](http://drowning-inthe-feels.tumblr.com/) if anyone is interested!

Lydia rushed down the hospital hallway and stumbled into the women’s restroom. Leaning heavily against the sink for support, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale and clammy, her eyes wide and fearful. She grabbed a paper towel with shaking hands, wet it, and carefully patted her cheeks and forehead, taking care not to smudge her makeup too much. The cool water was soothing and she closed her eyes, allowing herself to slowly process what had happened during the past fifteen minutes.

First of all, she was a fool for slipping and saying too much to Stiles. He was smart and curious to a fault, and she knew he wouldn’t let certain things that she’d said just go. He’d want answers, and knowing how persistent Stiles was, she had no doubt that he’d continue asking until she gave in.

When he had shown up, Lydia had been terrified that she was hallucinating again. Stiles had acknowledged his presence, though, proving to Lydia that Peter was indeed real. Her relief had been short-lived due to Peter's presence behind her. He'd been so close, she could feel his body heat. It had unnerved her, and she'd had a difficult time keeping herself from flinching with him so near.

If she never saw him again, she would be perfectly fine with that.

The door creaked open, and Lydia took a deep breath. She hoped that the person who had just come in didn’t decide to be friendly and ask her if she was okay. She didn’t want to talk to anyone. Pulling the towel away, she pasted on a smile, only to have it fade as she locked eyes in the mirror with Peter standing behind her.

Lydia opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over it, effectively silencing her. An arm looped around her waist and dragged her backwards into one of the stalls. Lydia flailed her arms and tried to gain her footing, but the heels she was wearing were ineffective against the tile floor. Panic bloomed within her, her heart pounding wildly, as Peter swung the stall door shut. He then crouched on the toilet seat and hoisted her up to sit on his lap, his arm now pinning her arms to her sides.

All her struggles got her was a sharp jab in the ribs.

“Be quiet!” was the hissed order, his eyes flickering electric blue.

She immediately stilled, hardly daring to breathe. Her entire body trembled with fear as she wondered what he was going to do now. She clenched her hands together, and her perfectly manicured nails dug into her palms, carving half-crescents into the skin. Green eyes darted to look at him and she noted that he was tense, his head tilted as though he were listening for something.

The slow squeak of the bathroom door startled her, and his hand pressed harder over her mouth to prevent her from making any noise. She heard the slide of shoes against the floor and the quiet rustle of clothing. A shadow walked slowly by the stall they were occupying and paused. She felt Peter tense and shift slightly, as though he were preparing to lunge should the stall door burst open. Tears pricked her eyes, but she forced them back. She would not cry. No matter what was going to happen, she would not cry.

“Are you sure she came in this bathroom?” a man grumbled. “We’ve checked all the ones on this floor already.”

“She didn’t go down the elevator, so she has to be here somewhere,” another man spoke, and Lydia recognized it as the man who had accidentally gone into Stiles’ room.

“She’s probably not even on this floor. We’re going to have to do a full building search.”

“We don’t have time for that. Someone is bound to notice us walking around.”

“Maybe if you didn’t keep losing her. She’s one girl. How hard could it be to-”

The door opened once more, and Lydia felt like she couldn’t breathe. What the hell was going on? She tried to ask Peter with her eyes, but he wasn’t paying attention to her, instead focusing on the conversation going on just a few feet away.

“Excuse me, but I think you two should know that this is the women’s restroom. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” it was a woman’s voice this time. A nurse who had helped Lydia find Stiles’ room.

“Ah, is it? I’m so sorry. I wasn’t really thinking,” the second man said. “We were here visiting a buddy of ours, and the prognosis isn’t good.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. But I really do need you to leave this restroom. And please, try to use the men’s room next time.”

“Of course,” the first man replied.

A minute later, Peter and Lydia were the only two in the restroom. She was still shaking, but he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to release her. She wiggled in his grasp to remind him of her presence, surprised when it elicited a low hiss. Then again, she thought as she glanced down, she was seated on his lap. She raised an eyebrow and stared at him until he looked at her. Interesting.

“I’m going to take my hand away,” Peter whispered. “Please don’t scream, or you’ll bring everyone within a five mile radius here. Can you do that?” At her nod, he slowly removed his hand and set her on her feet.

Lydia immediately backed as far away from him as she could, which in the tiny stall wasn’t very far. “Why are you following me?” her voice cracked, and she hated herself for showing weakness towards him. She nearly laughed at that. He could probably smell the fear wafting from her, and even if he couldn’t, the way she was trying to press herself through a solid object was probably a good indicator.

“I’m not following you. I came here to see Stiles,” he replied innocently, though his smirk was anything but.

“Well, I don’t see him in here. Case in point, you were following me. I want to know why,” Lydia snapped back. She felt smug about her comeback until he merely stared at her without reply. She shifted uncomfortably. She needed to get out of there.

Peter reached forward and she flinched, bracing herself for whatever he was going to do. She felt his fingers tangle in a few strands of her hair and tug lightly. He leaned close, his breath ruffling her hair, “It’s not me you have to be afraid of, Lydia.” He pulled back then, giving her a smile, and waved an arm. “After you.”

Lydia now found that she hated public restrooms even more. If she thought the stalls were small with only one person, then with two they were tiny. In order to open the door, she had to step forward, right up against Peter. From the smirk on his face, he knew what she was thinking and was obviously enjoying her discomfort. Well, two could play that game. She wouldn’t let him win.

Lydia raised her chin defiantly and held his gaze as she stepped forward, even closer than was necessary, which seemed to surprise him for a moment before he caught himself. At least the heels that she was wearing made her a little taller, even if she still only reached his nose.

Peter stared down at her, his expression unreadable, and Lydia almost missed the way his jaw tightened. A knowing look crossed her face as she leaned up, whispering against his neck, "You lose." Lydia then flashed him a smile with a toss of her hair and slipped out of the stall.

Lydia wasn’t sure if it was the creaky door that she heard, or if Peter was growling lowly.

Whichever it was, she hurried towards the elevator, hoping that she could get on it and not have to wait for the next one. Chancing a look behind her, her calm facade nearly slipped upon seeing Peter walking down the hall. She surged forward and into the elevator, and turned around in time to glimpse Peter pause before the doors closed.

Lydia shivered and raised a shaking hand to her chest, ignoring the strange looks given to her by the other people in the elevator. She was used to them by now. She’d received them from her classmates after her naked two day jaunt in the woods. Summer hadn’t dulled their memories, either. She tried to avoid her classmates when she could, ignored them when she couldn’t. But even when she couldn’t see them, she could still hear them.

“There goes Lydia,” they’d say whenever they passed by, “She’s crazy. Who the hell wanders around the woods naked?”

Lydia never used to hate school, but ever since Jackson had dumped her and she’d become the laughingstock of the entire student body, she dreaded it. If it weren’t for the fact that her parents would sign her up for more therapy, she’d ask if she could be homeschooled.

The elevator dinged and jolted to a stop. Lydia looked to see what floor they were on and sighed in relief. It was her stop. Hoisting her purse more tightly to her shoulder, she quickly strode to her car and got inside, locking all the doors. She knew that she should start driving, but her damned hands wouldn’t steady long enough for her to put the key in the ignition.

Lydia leaned her forehead against the steering wheel. What the hell had possessed her to challenge Peter like that? It had been an incredibly stupid move since she knew all too well what he was capable of. 

The night Peter had been resurrected, Lydia had thought it was the last time she’d see him. Then he’d shown up and attacked Jackson with Derek. He hadn’t said anything to her, though, merely given her a barely noticeable nod. And now he was here at the hospital. She didn’t fully believe him when he said that he was just visiting Stiles. There was something else -- a hidden motive -- but whatever it was, he wasn’t sharing.

That was what scared Lydia. She had no idea what to expect. For all she knew, he was planning something catastrophic, and she was involved. Or maybe he honestly had nothing better to do than skulk around, creeping on teenage girls.

As if on cue, the hairs on the back of her neck tingled and she raised her head to look in the rearview mirror. She didn’t see anyone there, but the feeling that she was being watched persisted. Hastily turning the car on, she backed out of the parking space and drove away, intent on going straight home and just relaxing, not just because of the stressful events at the hospital.

School was beginning in one week’s time, and she was determined to gain back her spot as the envy of the school.

-+-+-

Lydia slammed the front door shut and regretted doing so when Prada, who had come prancing up to greet her, scampered away, his nails clicking on the wood floor. She sighed. “Come here, Prada,” she coaxed, kneeling down and snapping her fingers. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I had a bad day at school.”

Technically, she should have said bad week. It appeared that no one wanted to forget ‘Crazy Lydia’ anytime soon, and that put a kink in her goal of becoming the most popular girl once more. Everyone that she had snubbed before was now retaliating, excluding her from practically everything. They all laughed at her, some behind her back and some to her face.

The first day she had put up a good front and managed to convince herself that it wouldn’t continue to be like that. But as each day came and passed, she realized with horror that her upbeat attitude was doing nothing to help.

Lydia Martin had lost control.

If there was one thing that she hated, it was to lose control. Everything that she’d had prior to the attack - popularity, status - had been ripped from her hands, and she was left with nothing but the tattered remains of her dignity, forced to watch other girls shamelessly flaunt what she used to have.

Lydia slumped to the floor, leaning against the wall, and pressed her face into her hands. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry. Crying did nothing except make her eyes red and puffy. She had to get ahold of herself. If she continued behaving like this, she wouldn’t succeed.

She stood up and crossed over to the mirror hanging in the entryway, critiquing her appearance. Her strawberry-blonde hair was curled and pulled back with a barrette. Her makeup was flawless, as usual, and perfectly matched her navy blue mini dress. She gritted her teeth. She looked fine, so what the hell was wrong? When had she lost her grip? 

Before, people used to clamour over her, fight for the opportunity to sit by her at lunch or in the classroom, while still giving her space in awe of her presence. But now, she’d be sitting alone at lunch if it hadn’t been for Scott and Isaac.

If it hadn’t been for Scott and Isaac...

Lydia clenched her hands tightly, green eyes narrowing. Of course. She’d been dragged into the supernatural unknown by those bumbling idiots and that had started her downward spiral. She’d lost Jackson, her social status, her sanity, and all because of those damn werewolves.

Rage swirled inside her as she reflected on the events of the past year that led to this point. Lydia had asked several times what was going on, but her friends hadn’t answered. Even after she’d been bitten, they’d tiptoed around her, keeping secrets and not bothering to ask how she was. Allison, her supposed best friend, had refused to tell her anything, claiming that it was to protect her forbidden relationship with Scott.

Some friends they had turned out to be. All their friendship had done was pull her into the supernatural world, leading to the destruction of her social life. Obviously, her mental and physical health hadn’t been important to them. Lydia shook her head, remembering her conversation with Stiles at the hospital a few weeks ago. He’d asked her then what all she knew about certain happenings, but Lydia hadn’t given a reply. If they could ignore her before when she’d pleaded for information, she could ignore them now whenever they asked for her to tell them what was on her mind. It was only fair that they get a taste of their own medicine, especially since it had been their fault she was sucked into a world filled with fangs and claws.

Pieces began to click together in Lydia’s mind, and she stared at her reflection, lips curving into a smile. To gain back her popularity, all she had to do was avoid interacting with Scott and the others. If she kept her distance from them, she wouldn’t get dragged into their werewolf drama. Life would go back to normal, and her social status would return.

Closing her eyes, Lydia breathed in deeply through her nose and slowly released her anger. This plan would be put into action immediately, and hopefully she would see some progress within a few days. Already, she could feel her confidence returning, and she tossed her hair over her shoulder with a smirk. She was Lydia freaking Martin, genius and pro at using and manipulating others. Whatever she wanted in life, she got. Right now, her focus was to be in control of the school once again, and Lydia was determined to make that happen, even if she had to push and shove people out of her path.

-+-+-

The weekend passed by way too quickly, and Monday morning dawned bright and clear. Refreshed and prepared for the new week, Lydia began her morning routine by taking a shower, getting dressed, then doing her hair and makeup. After a final examination, she deemed herself ready. As she was going down the steps, she met her mom coming up.

“You’re awake,” her mom stated in surprise. “I was just coming to get you up.”

Lydia tilted her head and smiled. “Now you don’t have to.” She brushed past her mom and bounded down the remaining steps. She could sense her mom eyeing her and sighed, turning around with a hand firmly planted on her hip. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” her mom hastened to say. “It’s just that you haven’t been very keen on going to school lately. I practically have to drag you out of bed in the mornings, and today, you’re all ready to go. I’m just wondering what caused the change in behavior.” Her mom’s eyes brightened a little, “Is it a boy?”

Lydia groaned. “No, Mom. I’m not dating anyone.”

“You don’t have to be dating a boy to think that he’s cute.” At Lydia’s look, she held her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay. You don’t like anyone. Lydia,” she sighed, “you’re not still upset over Jackson, are you?”

“Why would I be?” Lydia said, quietly but with enough force to make her mom realize that she was not happy with the interrogation.

Mrs. Martin came over and put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder. “Well, he and his family suddenly moved away. Even though you two had broken up, I know how close you both were and how teenage romances can be. It’s either this one person or it’s no one at all. Just keep your eyes open, honey. You may end up falling for the person you least suspect.”

Lydia stared at her mom, a feeling of dread washing over her as her mother’s words conjured up an image with dark brown hair and blue eyes. “I really hope that’s not the case,” she whispered before abruptly shaking off her mom’s hand and lifting her chin. “But you’re right. There’s only Jackson. I’m going to be late for school if I don’t leave now,” she added, seeing her mom about to protest, and made her escape.

She didn’t want to talk about Jackson or his moving away, and she definitely didn’t want to talk about the man who haunted her dreams at night.

-+-+-

There were two dreams - or nightmares, she wasn’t sure which. The only similarities they had was that she was alone at night and Peter was there. From there, they were entirely different.

In one, she was standing on the lacrosse field, and he was coming towards her. His eyes were glowing red, and his fangs were bared. She always tried to run, but she was frozen, unable to do anything except watch as he drew closer and closer. Soon he was right in front of her, teeth burying into her skin. She hated the feeling of helplessness that consumed her, the inability to defend herself.

In the other, she was wandering around in the woods, apparently searching for someone. She sensed someone behind her and when she turned around, he was standing there. His eyes were blue, and his smile was gentle. She ran towards him, her arms looping around his neck, and he picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pressed her against a tree, his lips finding hers in a kiss that left her breathless and dizzy.

Lydia didn’t know which dream was more terrifying.

-+-+-

Despite her positive attitude, the second week of school didn’t go much better than the first. Scott had been confused as to why she’d refused to sit with him and Isaac at lunch, but she’d made it clear that she wanted nothing to do with their little pack. Things always turned out badly for her when they involved her in anything, and she was tired of it. 

Besides, she’d said, if she didn’t hang out with them, then they didn’t have to worry about lying to her and keeping her in the dark. In the long run, it would be much easier on them. Needless to say, the confused look on Scott’s face had quickly turned to one of hurt and Lydia had hurried away, pretending the look had no effect on her. 

Lydia had tried to integrate herself back in with the popular crowd. It wasn’t as easy as she’d hoped it would be, even though she was feeling more like herself with every day that passed. She made passing comments and jibes about different people, the way she’d done before the attack. 

She realized that she’d been holding herself back, biting her tongue to keep any scathing remarks to herself and subconsciously afraid of being ‘Crazy Lydia.’ But not anymore. She had a good feeling that she was on the right track back to power and nothing could stop her now.

-+-+-

Although Lydia despised shopping alone, she needed something to console herself after the two horrible weeks of school. She had a grand time and left with several hundred dollars’ worth of purchases. Everything was fine until she was five miles from home. That was when she realized that the SUV behind her had been following her since she left the mall.

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel. She should have seen it coming. She had noticed over the past few weeks that she was being followed, but she hadn’t said anything because she’d assumed that either she was just imagining things or it was Peter. That last theory would have been interesting to explain. “I think I’m being followed by a thirty-some year old psychotic werewolf who attacked me a while ago and then used me to resurrect him.” Her parents would have definitely questioned her sanity. Talking to the other wolves wasn’t an option, either, since she was ignoring them at this point.

But now there was no doubt that someone -- other than Peter -- was indeed following her. Why, she didn’t know, but she had an inkling that it had something to do with what happened the day she visited Stiles in the hospital. But who were they, and what did they want with her?

Lydia abruptly turned to the right, even though she should have stayed going straight. She wanted to see what the SUV would do. Much to her relief, it kept straight, and she let out a shaky breath she hadn’t known she’d been holding.

Hypervigilance: the condition of maintaining an abnormal awareness of environmental stimuli. That’s what this was. Because of the hallucinations brought on by Peter being in her mind and haunting her, she perceived everything as a threat even when it wasn’t. He had said she’d have post-traumatic stress and a few months of profoundly disturbing nightmares.

Lydia grimaced. She hated how much she actually thought about Peter and how his words had stuck in her mind all this time. But how could a person have someone in their mind for weeks and not be affected? Sometimes she felt like Peter left splinters of himself in her, that not all of the thoughts in her head were hers. It was an alarming theory, one that made Lydia want to scrub her entire body, inside and outside, clean.

A horn blared, and Lydia slammed on her brakes, having nearly run through a stop sign. The other driver flipped her the bird, but she didn’t see it. Her heart was pounding wildly as she leaned back against the seat. A humorless laugh bubbled up from within and she shook her head, squeezing her trembling fingers around the wheel. She had to concentrate on the road lest she end up in the hospital or worse. Taking a deep breath to calm her nerves, she peered to the left, the right, and back to the left.

That was when the car hit.

The rear impact knocked Lydia forward, and while the seatbelt prevented her from hitting the steering wheel, the back of her head met the headrest when she was jerked back. She sat in stunned silence, a hand on her head, as her eyes slid closed.

Her parents were going to kill her. Granted, the accident wasn’t her fault, but her car was damaged. How badly, she wasn’t sure yet. She was half-afraid to look. A car door slammed shut, and Lydia stiffened, aware of just how vulnerable she was. She was alone in her car at night, and there didn’t appear to be any other cars around. The houses were all dark through this area, most likely due to it being a Friday. Everyone was out celebrating the end of another horrible work week.

Quickly locking her doors, Lydia glanced in the mirror and wasn’t entirely surprised when she saw that the other vehicle was an SUV. She was willing to bet any money that it was the same one that had been following her earlier.

“You’ve must be kidding me,” she muttered, unhooking her seatbelt and reaching across for her purse so that she could grab her cell phone. A knock on the window made her jump, and she pressed a hand to her mouth, a muffled shriek slipping out. She whipped her head around to see a man standing there. A baseball cap was tugged low over his brows and when he lifted his hand in a motion for her to roll the window down, she swore that he was wearing gloves.

Her mouth went dry from fear, and her heart slammed against her chest. She felt like she was stuck in a horror movie and her character had just been cornered by the monster.

“--okay?”

Lydia shook herself out of her stupor. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

“I asked if you were okay,” the man replied, a little louder and slower.

“Yes, I’m fine.” No thanks to you, she added mentally.

“Oh, that’s good,” his shoulders sagged with relief, and he flashed her a smile. “Let’s get this mess straightened up, then.”

Lydia wiggled her phone in the air. “I’m calling the cops now.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll just give you my name and insurance information, and then we can both report it,” he offered.

“Like hell I’m not calling them,” she retorted. “For all I know, you could give me some fake name and insurance policy, and then where the hell would I be? I am not paying to have my car fixed when it was entirely your fault.” Calm down, Lydia, she told herself. You don’t know what he might do. It definitely wasn’t safe to harass a complete stranger, but she was pissed. This was just one more thing to add to the laundry list of things that had gone wrong over the past year.

“You’re right. I’m really sorry. Why don’t you get out of the car, that way we can hear each other better? I don’t like feeling like I’m yelling at a pretty young lady.”

Lydia’s skin crawled, and she looked at him with barely hidden disgust. “I can hear you just fine,” she said and turned back to her phone. Each second that ticked by made her even more uneasy. Everything about him screamed serial murderer, and she had to call for help before he did something crazy. Something metallic tapped on the glass just then, and she cringed. The muzzle of a gun pointed at the window was exactly what she’d feared would happen.

“Let’s try this again,” he stated seriously. There was no hint of the sweet guy he’d been portraying up until this point, and Lydia swallowed nervously, eyes flickering from the gun to his face. “Get out of the car, or I will shoot you.”

Shaking fingers fumbled with the lock, and Lydia pushed open the door and climbed out. She’d been hoping that she could open it and knock him off balance, but he’d stepped to the side, giving her space to freely open her door. The door shutting behind her was loud in the tense atmosphere and she shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. The night air was chilly, and all she was wearing was a thin jacket over a blouse and mini skirt. If she’d known she would have been held at gunpoint, she would have worn something warmer and bulletproof. 

For a brief moment, she entertained the idea of running away, but she knew that she wouldn’t get very far with her high heels, and if she suddenly took her shoes off that would be a dead giveaway as to what she was planning to do.

“Get in,” he waved the gun in the direction of his car.

Lydia balked, shuffling back a few steps. She knew where this was going, and she didn’t like it. There was no way in hell she was getting in his car. “I think I’ll just wait here.”

His hand shot out, grabbed a handful of her curls, and yanked viciously. She cried out as she stumbled forward. Her ankle twisted painfully, and she nearly collapsed onto the pavement. Tears stung her eyes, and she let out a tiny whimper.

“Oh, shut up, bitch,” he muttered. “Don’t bother yelling. There’s no one around to hear you.”

There was a thud from behind her, the sound of someone landing on the roof of a car, and Lydia closed her eyes. There were two of them. She was as good as dead.

“Haven’t you ever heard that it’s not polite to speak to a woman like that?”

The voice was so familiar, deep and firm. Craning her neck as best as she could, she saw Peter Hale perched on top of her car and Lydia didn’t know whether she wanted to weep in relief or scream in terror. What was the saying? Out of the frying pan and into the fire. Could her night honestly get any worse?

That was a rhetorical question, she screamed at the universe when her would-be kidnapper pulled her in front of him using her body as a shield, and pointed the weapon at Peter. The werewolf sighed.

“Now that’s not any fun. Those are regular bullets,” he said in monotone. “If you’re going to threaten me, at least make it more dangerous,” he grinned, sharp canines protruding from his mouth.

Lydia flinched. She could still feel his teeth tearing into her flesh, his breath hot against her hip. He caught her gaze, and she saw worry hidden in the depths of his eyes. While Peter wasn’t following her because he cared about her, something had him worried enough to follow her.

The man cursed, hesitated, then roughly shoved Lydia forward and sprinted towards the SUV. Lydia gasped, the asphalt rushing up to meet her, hands thrown out to halt her fall. Her efforts weren’t needed when two strong arms snagged around her waist. Without a thought, she clung wordlessly, her face buried into the material of his leather jacket. Her small frame shook, adrenaline flooding her veins, and she was vaguely aware of his hand spanning her back, his fingertips rubbing soothing circles.

The roar of the SUV’s engine starting up startled her and she tensed, but then it faded into the distance as the man drove away. She breathed a sigh of relief. One threat was gone. That just left Peter.

Slowly, the teen released her grip and eased back, her hands falling from his shoulders to hang limply by her side. Peter loosened his hold on her, but his hands hovered, ready to catch her if need be. She looked up at him, fearful that she would see glowing eyes and sharp fangs, but instead was met with a grin.

“Falling for me, hm?” he questioned, a twinkle in his blue eye.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Lydia bristled. “Were you following me?”

“Mm, yes. This time, I was indeed following you,” he admitted, then chuckled when she balled her hands into fists. “I did save your life, though, so perhaps a ‘thank you’ would be more appropriate than a slap.”

Grinding her teeth, Lydia tilted her chin up defiantly. “You deserve a slap, and worse,” she snapped, eyes sparking dangerously. “Now unless I’m mistaken, and I don’t think I am, that man knew that you’re not just a regular human. I think I deserve to know what the hell is going on.”

Peter sighed, as though this were a terrible inconvenience. “Yes, I think now would be a good time. But first,” he said, and Lydia growled, which had no affect on him whatsoever, but merely made him chuckle, “you need to call the police.” He held a finger to her lips when she made to protest. “Call the police, explain that the man rear ended you and then drove away. Let them take you to the hospital to look at your head and ankle. Then we will talk.”

Lydia studied him, eyes narrowed. “You promise?”

“I promise,” he said smoothly, then helped her back to her car. “Now make the call. I’ll stay until they show up.”

Lydia punched in the numbers keeping her gaze locked on Peter. Even though he had saved her life, she didn’t trust him farther than she could throw him. She doubted that he would keep his word to let her know what was happening. She opened her mouth to say as much to him, but the 911 operator answered, and Lydia was forced to swallow the burning words. 

Later. She’d tell him later.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tension thickens between Peter and Lydia. Peter and Stiles. Peter and Derek. Moral of this chapter: Peter doesn't get along with anyone.

No word existed that accurately described how much Lydia despised the hospital. As wonderful as the staff were, as soon as they were told her name, their reactions had all been the same. 

“Oh,” they’d said, drawing the word out as if to convey a hidden meaning. “Yes, I remember her. Poor girl. She was attacked by a crazed man, and then she disappeared naked for two days.” Lydia hated it. She was used to receiving weird looks from classmates, but the pitying glances the nurses and doctors tossed her way were more than she could take.

Luckily, it had been a slow night at the ER and Lydia was in and out far quicker than she had dared to hope. Her mom had shown up, nearly hysterical with worry even after Lydia assured her several times that she was fine. The only injury she’d acquired was a twisted ankle, although the doctor warned about whiplash and prompted her to ask for medical help should she experience pain in her neck or back. Then, armed with a prescription for pain meds, crutches, and instructions on how to care for her ankle, Lydia let her mother drive her home.

They were halfway there when Lydia checked her phone and found three voice messages and a dozen texts from Scott and Stiles asking if she was okay. She didn’t bother to reply, simply turned her phone off and leaned back in the seat.

It was only once she was tucked into bed and nearly asleep that Lydia realized Peter had not explained anything to her. Shocker.

-+-+-

A soft moan fell from parted lips and Lydia arched into the soft caresses running down her sides. She reached up, fingers tangling in his hair, and brought his head down to her neck where he obligingly licked and sucked at the soft flesh.

His fingertips skimmed over her belly and traced a path from her navel to her breast. He chuckled lowly when she rolled her hips into his.

“More,” she sighed and opened her eyes to see glowing red orbs staring back at her.

He smirked, “My, eager tonight, are we?”

She stared in horror at his eyes and screamed.

-+-+-

Lydia jerked awake with a small cry, breath coming in short pants. She bolted up and scanned her room for anything out of place -- for someone who didn’t belong there -- but she was alone. It had just been a dream.

Glaring at the prescription bottle on her bedside table, she decided that the meds were to blame and made up her mind to to throw them out in the morning.

-+-+-

The doorbell ringing woke her up, and Lydia groaned and rolled over, pulling the covers over her head. Her mom would answer the door, she thought, then remembered that her mom had been called into work earlier that morning. She debated about getting up, but concluded that she was much too comfortable, figuring that whoever was at her door at eleven o’clock on a Saturday morning would eventually give up.

She had just closed her eyes when there was a tapping at her window. She stiffened, the thudding of her heart loud in her ears as she realized that she would have to sit up to see who was at her window. Carefully crouching low, she peered over and almost fell off the bed when Scott’s face came into view.

“Oh, my God,” she hissed, “I am going to kill you.”

He smiled apologetically and motioned for her to open the window. She flung the covers back, swung her feet over the edge of the bed, and hobbled over. As soon as it was open, he squeezed inside and she raised an eyebrow.

“Really?” she asked.

“What? Did you really want me hanging out on your windowsill where your neighbors could see me?” Scott replied.

Lydia sighed, wrinkling her nose. If any of her neighbors had seen that, they’d go right to her mom and then Lydia would be in trouble. “Are you the only one here?”

The werewolf shook his head. “Stiles and Isaac are here, too. And I think Derek and Peter are coming soon.”

The girl gave him an incredulous look. “Did anyone bother to ask me if this was okay? I was just in a car accident last night!”

“Which is why we’re here. Peter said he had something to tell us,” Scott explained, his brow furrowing. He didn’t trust Peter, but that wasn’t unusual. Nobody trusted him.

“Okay, fine,” she seethed, not bothering to argue because, finally, she was going to learn what was going on. “Go downstairs and let the others in. I’ll be down in a few minutes.” When Scott closed the bedroom door after him, she set about selecting an outfit and dressing. She sighed again. There was no time for her to take a shower or even do her makeup. She quickly brushed her hair and secured it with a barrette. 

She made a face at herself in the mirror. This would have to do.

She could hear Prada barking at the newcomers as she made her way carefully down the steps, having slid her crutches down before. Lydia didn’t like using them, but her ankle hurt too much to put even the slightest amount of pressure on it. Thinking about the pain reminded her of the medicine and she grimaced. She should at least take tylenol or something for the pain.

By the time she arrived in the living room, everyone else had already made themselves comfortable. Stiles was sandwiched between Scott and Isaac on the couch, Derek had claimed the recliner, and Peter was leaning casually against the fireplace.

“Make yourselves at home,” she muttered and sat down on the loveseat, propping her foot up on a stool. Prada curled up beside her and she petted his little furry head. A memory of her fingers threading through dark brown hair flashed in her mind, and Lydia caught her breath. Of course she would have to remember that when Peter was standing across the room. She chanced a quick look at him, and he met her eyes. Swallowing hard, she forced a stiff nod and turned her attention to the impromptu meeting, much safer than her previous thought.

“Oh, my God, Lydia, do you have any idea how worried we were?” Stiles was the first to speak. “You weren’t answering the door or your phone.”

Lydia blinked. “I turned my phone off so I could sleep, and I usually don’t get visitors this early on a Saturday morning. Which brings me to the question of why the hell are you all here?”

Derek leaned forward then. “Peter said he owed you an explanation, and that we all needed to hear it.”

The strawberry-blonde turned towards Peter, perking an eyebrow. “Really? And here I thought he’d forgotten. I’ve only been waiting for the past twelve hours or so.”

“I promised that I would tell you, but I never said when. Honestly, teenagers these days can’t grasp the concept that patience is a virtue,” Peter sighed.

Lydia gave him a saccharine smile, “Then you can be patient while I find some wolfsbane so I can put you six feet back under the ground. Unless you tell me right now.” She leveled her gaze at Peter, who appeared to be amused if his low chuckle was anything to go by.

“They’re hunters,” Peter stated plainly, pushing away from the fireplace. “The same ones who have been around Beacon Hills for the past month or so.”

“Hunters?” Lydia repeated. “Why would hunters be after me? I’m not a werewolf. I didn’t turn.”

“And that is why they want you.”

“But I-” Lydia stopped then, puzzle pieces clicking together in her mind. “They want me because I’m immune.” His slow nod was the confirmation she needed, and she slumped against the couch. “Oh, my God,” she murmured faintly.

“Immune. Hey, you mentioned that when you visited me in the hospital,” Stiles realized. “Is this what you meant? That you’re immune to the bite?”

Lydia blew out a harsh breath. “Can we talk about that later, Stiles? Right now I want to know exactly why they’re interested in my immunity, and why the hell I wasn’t told about this sooner.” She glared at the oldest werewolf again.

“I would also like to know why I wasn’t told,” Derek said flatly, clearly annoyed with his uncle.

“You,” Peter pointed at Derek, “were too busy using wolfsbane to care about the hunters and therefore of no help. And don’t deny it. You should know by now, Derek, that an Alpha has to always be alert. Otherwise, the pack suffers.”

“Technically, I’m not pack,” Lydia chimed in, Scott nodding in agreement, but Peter ignored them. She huffed and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at him.

“Something far worse could have happened, and you wouldn’t have been aware of it. You’re Alpha, Derek. Now act like it.”

Stiles, who had been squirming in his seat, now jumped in in Derek’s defense, “Hey, cut him some slack, okay?”

“No, Stiles, I will not ‘cut him some slack.’ And do you know why? Because. He. Is. Alpha,” Peter enunciated slowly and carefully to get his point across. “You are in his pack and thereby under his protection. Do you honestly think that hunters or another pack are going to wait for him to get his shit together? ‘Oh, here’s a new Alpha. Let’s wait a few years to let him get used to his leadership role.’ Remember the Alpha pack? They certainly didn’t wait.”

“They didn’t cause much trouble. And besides, they left,” Derek stated.

“But why did they leave? They came here for a purpose, then suddenly changed their minds and ran away with their tails between their legs?” Peter shook his head. “Something scared them off. And that something was the hunters.”

“The hunters after me.”

“Yes.”

“Why do they want Lydia?” Isaac questioned. “Just because she didn’t turn into a werewolf?”

“That’s why they want her. Do none of you understand?” Peter let out an exasperated sigh. “Her immunity may be the key that they are looking for in their fight against werewolves. These hunters have been working on something even more dangerous than wolfsbane. When it’s completed, it will kill any werewolves, and there is no cure.

“Luckily, they’ve run into some problems with it. The way it stands now, the so-called ‘antidote’ only causes intense pain and temporary dulling of werewolf abilities. But it is still dangerous, as it gives the hunter an advantage.”

“So what you’re trying to say is that they need my immunity to complete their project,” Lydia clarified.

Peter nodded, “They’re hoping that it will boost the antidote’s power enough to cause death.”

“How do you know all this?” Scott’s nose scrunched in confusion.

“Deaton isn’t the only human who has helped the Hale pack in the past. I have sources all over that I can trust.”

“We’re just supposed to trust that what you’re saying is the truth,” Scott said, ”because I don’t know about anyone else, but I don’t trust you.”

“You don’t trust anyone, Scott,” Derek interjected. “Which is why you didn’t bother to tell any of us about your great plan to stop Gerard.”

“You don’t trust anyone, either,” Scott protested. “You just sit in your rundown house and do absolutely nothing unless it interests you.”

Derek bristled, “Apparently you don’t pay attention because I don’t just sit around.”

“Would everyone please just shut up?” Lydia cried angrily. “You all sound like my mom and dad whenever they talk. My God, it’s so irritating.”

“Guys, why don’t we get back to what we were talking about?” Stiles suggested desperately, shooting a quick glance at Lydia.

“Excellent idea, Stiles,” Peter said flatly. He crossed his arms, his gaze lighting on Lydia, and she squirmed. It felt like an eternity before he turned towards Derek and she breathed a sigh of relief when he did. “Up until now, I’ve been watching out for her.”

Stiles let out a yelp, his mouth falling open, “That day in the hospital. When those two guys came into my room. That was like three weeks ago and you didn’t think it was necessary to tell us?”

Peter rolled his eyes towards him. “I didn’t tell you because I was still in the process of gathering information at that point and they were just learning her daily routine. Also, while she was at school, she had Scott and Isaac there who would have been able to tell if something was wrong. After school, I was perfectly capable of handling it by myself.”

“So what changed?” Isaac questioned.

“They made a move last night. I almost didn’t get there in time to stop them.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” Stiles sputtered, flailing his arms. “Are you saying that the car accident was _planned_?”

The oldest werewolf nodded. “They’ll be looking for opportunities now when she’s alone.”

Isaac snorted, “And what are we supposed to do? Babysit her?”

“I don’t need to be babysat,” Lydia ground out as Peter said, “Protect her, is more like it.”

“Why should we have to protect her? She’s your problem,” Derek spat out. “You’re the one who bit her and alerted every damn hunter in the area that she is immune.”

“‘Problem’?” Lydia sputtered. “Excuse me, but I am nobody’s ‘problem.’”

“This is everyone’s problem!” Peter snapped, and Prada whined, crawling onto Lydia’s lap and butting her arm with his head. She scratched him behind the ear in a comforting gesture. “If the hunters get her immunity, we are all dead. It’s in our best interest to ensure that it doesn’t happen. And to do that, we need to organize around the clock watch.”

Scott groaned and rubbed a hand over his face, “School just started. I have to keep my grades up this time, or Mom is going to kill me.”

“That’s why you can keep an eye on her while you’re at school,” Peter explained. “And Derek and I can have shifts the rest of the time whenever she isn’t with one of you. Except Stiles, since he’s still recovering.”

Lydia glanced over at Stiles. He definitely looked better than he had when she’d seen him three weeks ago, his face having regained its natural color, and he was also using crutches to get around. From what she could tell, he was completely at ease around the werewolves, including Derek. She didn’t understand how he could be so calm while Lydia was there barely preventing herself from panicking. Then again, she mused, Stiles hadn’t had to deal with Derek in his head for weeks, torturing and tormenting him every moment.

Silence fell over the room as they all thought about the arrangement. Lydia wasn’t happy with it. Once again, she’d been dragged into the supernatural world, and to make matters worse, the pack would be her bodyguards, so to speak. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of Scott following her around, jumping at every little noise and movement.

“Why don’t we just tell the police that I’m being followed?” Lydia said. “That way, they can protect me.”

“I can tell my dad,” Stiles offered. “It’s actually a good thing that he knows about werewolves now. He can help with stuff like this.”

Frowning, Peter shook his head, “You can tell your dad, Stiles, but don’t let anyone else on the police force know. I’d like to keep humans out of this as much as possible. These hunters don’t follow the code and will stop at nothing to get what they want, including gunning down innocent people.”

“And you would have to come up with a believable lie to tell the police and her parents,” Derek added.

“Good point,” his uncle nodded in agreement.

“Isn’t anyone going to ask what I think of this?” Lydia interjected, angrily glaring at them. “Because I don’t like the idea of werewolves shadowing me every day.” She’d had enough of that when Peter had been in her head.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Peter turned to her, tone fakely sympathetic, “Lydia, would you rather be kidnapped, tortured, and responsible for the deaths of hundreds of werewolves? Or would you rather be protected by some werewolves and not have to go through all of the emotional and physical trauma that the former scenario would cause?”

The girl laughed. She fisted her trembling fingers in the material of her skirt and tried to calm her racing heart. There were four werewolves in the room, and they could probably all smell the panicky vibes she was putting off. “Emotional and physical trauma? I think I’ve had enough of that to last me a lifetime. Besides, I could endure a bit more if that meant you would be killed.”

His eyes narrowed, and he took a step forward, halting when Scott let out a low growl. “But it wouldn’t be just me, Lydia. You would be sentencing all werewolves to their deaths. That would include not only myself, but also Derek, Scott, Isaac, and anyone else, even innocent werewolf children. Now, answer my previous question. Which one would you rather?”

Lydia swallowed, her face pale. When put like that, she could see that Peter had a point. As much as she disliked the situation and having to be protected like some damsel in distress, there was no other choice. “Fine,” she bit out grudgingly.

He smiled, triumphant gleam in his blue eyes, and leaned back against the fireplace, “I knew you’d see it my way.”

Lydia tossed her hair, letting out a soft snort. She smoothed a hand down Prada’s fur and hoped the action camouflaged the shaking of her hands. She just wanted all of them, especially Peter, out of her house.

“So Isaac and I handle it at school, and you two,” Scott motioned at Derek and Peter, “will watch whenever we aren’t with her. What about weekends?”

“We can switch shifts for the weekend, according to whoever is free at the time,” Peter said. “Is everyone in agreement?” A collection of ‘yeah’s’ and ‘fine’s’ filtered through the air, and he smiled. “Good. Now if there are no more questions or discussions then I think we can call this little meeting to an end.”

“I just have one more thing to say,” Scott stood up, fists clenched and eyes glowing, “Peter, if I find out that you did anything to her, I won’t hesitate to kill you.”

Peter’s expression turned to one of wounded hurt, “Now why would I want to hurt a beautiful girl like Lydia?”

“Maybe because you already did,” Scott muttered, “and it looks like she doesn’t want you anywhere near her.”

“Actually,” Isaac piped up, “she said that she doesn’t want anything to do with any werewolves at all, remember, Scott?”

Lydia groaned and dropped her head into her hands. A headache was beginning to bloom, and her foot ached. She just wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend that the world didn’t exist for the next few hours. Floorboards creaked as someone walked by, but she didn’t bother to look up and see who it was. She tuned out the conversation and counted to twenty, telling herself that by the time she opened her eyes, she’d be alone.

When she did open her eyes, she saw a hand holding out a glass of water and two ibuprofen. She followed the hand to the face it belonged to.

Peter.

Lydia eyed him suspiciously, wondering how he knew where she kept the medicines, but he merely smiled and held the glass out further towards her. Cautiously, she swallowed them down and handed him the glass, motioning for him to put it on the coffee table.

She sensed someone watching, and scanned the room. It was Derek. He had an apprehensive look on his face, like he didn’t understand what was happening between her and Peter. Of course, one of the last times he’d seen Lydia, she’d resurrected his uncle, so she could see why he would be wary.

Did Derek think that she was working together with Peter? The thought was hilarious. There was no way she would willingly work with the man who had attacked her and forced her to do his bidding. She could hardly stand having him in the same room, although she supposed she should be grateful to him for saving her. She could be grateful and still not like him.

“Who will take the day shift today?” Peter asked, easily slipping back into the conversation as if he hadn’t even left the room.

“I’ll take tonight,” Derek said.

Isaac held up a hand, “I don’t have anything to do right now.”

“Good. I don’t think they’ll try anything right now, especially since they now know that we’re aware of what’s happening,” Peter theorized. “But all the same, be cautious. Call if something does happen.”

Scott stood and stretched, then turned around and helped Stiles to his feet, handing him his crutches. “I can take tomorrow,” he offered.

Peter nodded, “And I’ll come tomorrow night. Derek and I will decide about Monday through Friday nights later.”

As Scott, Stiles, Peter, and Derek headed for the door, Lydia was suddenly struck by a thought, and she laughed. Isaac turned a questioning look towards her, and she smirked. “Am I the only one,” she raised her voice so the others could hear her, “who noticed that Peter was acting like the Alpha the entire meeting?”

A collective hiss spread through the group, and the teens all glanced from Derek, who was gritting his teeth, to Peter, who seemed nonchalant about the death glare he was receiving. The air sparked with tension, and no one dared to move.

Derek growled, eyes flashing red, “And we will be discussing that when we get back to the house.”

Instead of lowering his head or baring his throat in submission, Peter stared at Derek straight on, “Maybe if you acted like an Alpha and took charge, we wouldn’t have to ‘discuss’ anything,” he stated quietly before leaving through the back door.

The Alpha stood silently for a moment, and Stiles tentatively put a hand on his shoulder. Derek didn’t even look at him, just shrugged the hand away and stalked off after Peter.

Isaac let out a low whistle, “I am so glad I don’t have to be anywhere near them right now.”

Scott nodded in agreement. “Yeah. Things aren’t going to go well for Peter at all.”

Lydia relaxed in her seat, pursing her lips in thought. She had no doubt that Derek would try to assert his dominance as Alpha, but she had a feeling that Peter wouldn’t submit so easily. If she had to place a bet, she’d put all her money on Peter as the winner. He wasn’t the Alpha, she knew, but he was smart and cunning and would have a good plan in place as to how he could defeat Derek. She closed her eyes, half wishing that she could witness the fight that was sure to ensue.


	3. Chapter 3

“Can you please not do that?”

Isaac raised an eyebrow at Lydia’s sharp tone. “Do what?”

“The whole staring and slouching in silence thing,” Lydia motioned with her hand to where he was standing in the corner. “Do you ever stand up straight?”

He shrugged. “I don’t realize I’m doing it.”

“You should stand up straight. Otherwise, you’re going to end up with back and shoulder problems.”

Isaac rolled his shoulders back and straightened to his full height for a few seconds before returning to his hunched posture. “Nah, it feels too weird.”

“That’s only because you’re not used to it.” Lydia waved a pen at him, rolling her eyes. “If you work at it, eventually you won’t even have to think about it. Besides, good posture indicates that you’re confident.”

A wry smile crossed Isaac’s lips, “Is that so?”

“I read it somewhere,” she murmured airily as she turned back to her homework. It had been two weeks since their first ‘pack meeting,’ as Stiles had begun to refer to it as, and during that time, she’d noticed several things about the werewolves.

Isaac never stood up straight. He was always slouched over, as though by doing so he could be inconspicuous and take up less room or just disappear altogether. Lydia knew that his father had been abusive and that made her suspect that it had been a defense mechanism. Except in Isaac’s case, it was more like ‘If I just make myself smaller, maybe you’ll leave me alone.’

Whenever Isaac was standing guard, he claimed a corner of her bedroom and didn’t move from that spot. He just sat there, shoulders drooping and head tilting down, staring intensely at her. While Lydia was used to people staring at her, it was very unnerving in this situation.

Scott, on the other hand, didn’t like to stand still. He was almost constantly moving around, checking out the window for any suspicious behavior. He tried to make conversation, which Lydia humored depending on what kind of mood she was in.

Derek, like Isaac, remained in a corner, but instead of staring he read books. From what Lydia could tell, he was researching. 

She was curious to know what the books said, but she bit her lip each time she wanted to ask if she could read one. Derek would most likely say no since Lydia had made it quite clear several times that she wanted nothing to do with the pack. On occasion, she’d catch Derek glowering over the top of his book in her direction. She assumed he was still upset with the comment she’d made about Peter acting more like the Alpha. She didn’t feel the need to apologize, though. She hadn’t heard anything about what had happened between Peter and Derek after the pack meeting, and to be honest she was dying to know. But neither of them were talking about it and Lydia doubted that she would get an answer from one of them if she were to ask.

Speaking of Peter, his behavior was perhaps the strangest out of them all. Lydia had expected him to invade her personal space, to tease and just make her life more miserable. So when he had just sat in a corner, pulled out his laptop, and ignored her she’d been surprised at first, then had let it go since he wasn’t bothering her.

It perturbed her, though, how comfortable he was in her room, as if he’d been there many times before. Actually, he seemed to be comfortable in the entire house, not to mention he knew where she kept everything. Lydia didn’t doubt that he’d memorized it while he was inside her head.

Speak of the devil, Lydia thought as the window slid open and Peter crawled inside. He and Isaac exchanged nods and Isaac ambled over to the window. “See you around,” he said before disappearing.

Lydia released a sigh and watched out of the corner of her eye as Peter claimed the spot Isaac had just vacated. His face was soon lit by the glow of his laptop and Lydia returned her gaze to her notebook. 

They both worked in silence, the tense atmosphere surrounding them, and Lydia soon lost herself in her homework.

“What are you working on?”

The question broke through the stillness of the room, startling her, and she whipped her head around to find that Peter was standing right beside the bed. His posture was relaxed, arms folded across his chest. Lydia glared at him, but he was unaffected.

“Homework,” she bit out.

“I could tell that much. What subject?” he clarified.

Lydia held up her social studies book then dropped it back on the bed.

“History was one of my favorite subjects in school,” Peter commented, picking up the book and idly flipping through the pages.

“Mm,” Lydia hummed distractedly before holding her hand out and snapping her fingers. Peter handed the book over and she set it beside her. One more question and then she was done.

“I was a history teacher. Before the fire,” he added quietly.

Lydia stopped writing and glanced at Peter. He was staring at her textbook with an almost fond expression on his face. She'd never seen him look like that. Chewing on her bottom lip, she debated the pros and cons of continuing the conversation. It would involve talking to him, but it would be better than the deafening quiet. 

She set aside her notebook and pen. “What grade did you teach?”

“Twelfth grade. I know some people can't stand the older grades, but I enjoyed teaching them. It was interesting, to say the least,” he mused. “I would always assign a history paper due at the end of the year. They had to pick a moment in history that they would change and explain what differences that would mean in today’s world.”

Lydia tilted her head, strawberry-blonde curls spilling over her shoulder, “Like Abraham Lincoln’s assassination was prevented, or the colonies deciding not to go to war against England.”

“Exactly. There were always some excellent, well thought-out papers. Being a teacher was actually how I met my wife.”

“Was she a student of yours? Another teenage girl that you liked to creep on?” Her tone sweet and innocent, Lydia couldn’t help but make a jab at him. She bit her lip to keep back a smirk.

Peter stared at her, the beginnings of an amused smile playing on his lips, “It hurts me, Lydia, how you always assume the worst. But no. She worked at a museum that I took my students to one year. She was impressed with my knowledge about different historical subjects. Before we left, she gave me a card with her name and number and I’m sure you can figure out the rest.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Lydia inquired.

“To show you that I’m not entirely heartless. You seem to believe that I have an ulterior motive for everything that I do.”

“Don’t you? You bit Scott because you needed a pack. You bit me because I was your plan B. And you’re only protecting me because you’ll most likely die if I’m captured by the hunters,” Lydia countered childishly, ticking the list off with her fingers. “I’m positive that there’s more that I don’t know about, too.”

Peter gave a low chuckle and folded his arms across his chest. “You seem to have me all figured out.”

“It’s really not that hard. All I have to do is take everything you say with a grain of salt.”

“Yet here you are, leaving your life in my hands. Apparently you trust me enough for that.”

Lydia tilted her chin up. “I know you won’t let me get caught. You value your life too much. Survival is the only thing that you care about. Why else would you bite me and force me to resurrect you?”

“Most living things have something called self-preservation,” Peter observed. “It’s that innate desire to stay alive. Nobody wants to die, Lydia. That’s why people do crazy things when faced with death. They will lie, beg, and bargain, all in the hope that they or their loved ones might be spared.” He flexed his right hand then looked up with a fanged, predatory smirk. “That usually doesn’t work.”

Lydia shuddered. Peter’s fangs glinted in the light and he was far too close to her for her own comfort. He was dangerous. It wouldn’t be very difficult for him to rip her in half. He was faster and stronger, and there was no one around to help her. Scott’s shift didn’t begin until eight the next morning. Her mother was still at work, not that she would be of much help against a werewolf anyway.

Lydia curled her fingers into fists, terror sweeping through her. She was suddenly back on the lacrosse field, frozen as Peter advanced. Fear clogged her throat and made her limbs heavy. All she could hear was her pulse pounding in her ears as her heart raced.

Light pressure on her hand snapped Lydia out of her panic. Green eyes caught on Peter kneeling beside her, carefully prying her fingers apart. She shivered as his fingers ghosted over the half-moons imprinted on her palms. Slowly, Lydia looked up, fearful of what she would see, but his teeth were blunt once more. 

Concern shone through his eyes, and he raised a hand to her face. She stiffened, steeling herself for the inevitable prick of his claws, but it didn’t happen. Instead, it was a simple caress, a gentle stroke of his fingertips down her cheek as he brushed her sweat-dampened hair behind her ear.

“Shh,” he murmured, “you’re okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Lydia was not comforted. She didn’t trust this manipulative man who could whisper truth one minute and then breathe lies the next. There was no way she could believe anything he said to her, not after everything he’d done to her already.

Peter placed a hand on her trembling shoulder. “How about I keep the claws and fangs out of sight. It would be a shame if someone as beautiful as you are died of fright,” he grasped a fiery curl and twirled it around his fingers.

Lydia nodded curtly and shifted on the bed, away from Peter’s clutches. A quick glance at the clock told her that it was nearing 10 p.m. With a sigh, she grabbed a pair of pajamas and headed to her bathroom for a quick shower.

Long showers were a thing of the past. While Lydia trusted that Scott and Derek wouldn’t try anything, she doubted Isaac’s and Peter’s morals. Peter especially, what with haunting and kissing -- albeit in a hallucination -- a teenage girl. She wouldn’t put it past him to attempt to force himself on her.

Sleeping, too, did not come as easily as it once had. She not only had the nightmares to worry about, but also male werewolves inside her bedroom. Not to mention hunters intent on kidnapping her. She was dealing with a lot of stress which would have disastrous results on her face in the form of worry lines.

Lydia raked her fingers through her hair in frustration. She was sixteen years old. The biggest stressor she should have in her life was fighting with her boyfriend and parents, not life-and-death situations. But she was the unlucky girl chosen to have immunity running through her veins. She would be fortunate to ever escape the supernatural life. 

At the rate it was going, however, she would be lucky just to survive high school.

-+-+-

When Lydia woke up the next morning Peter was already gone, Scott having taken his place. Although it was Saturday and she had nothing planned, she got up earlier than normal. Her phone was beeping when she came back upstairs from getting breakfast. It was Stiles, asking if he could come over. She responded with a yes, but only because she was bored.

Thirty minutes later, Scott’s head jerked up towards the window and a few seconds later, she could hear the unmistakable sounds of Stiles’ jeep making its way down the street. 

Lydia hurried downstairs when the doorbell rang, Prada yipping at her heels. She scooped him up before admitting Stiles into the entryway. He wasn’t using his crutches, which surprised Lydia since he’d been using them the entire first week he’d been back in school.

“Hey. Good to see you without crutches.”

“Scott’s here, right?” Stiles said.

“Hello to you, too,” Lydia grumbled, shutting the door and locking it. “And yes, it’s his morning to babysit me.” She eyed him suspiciously. “Did you come all the way over here just to visit him?”

“No,” Stiles was quick to assure her. “I need to talk to you. Like right now because I might die if I don’t get help. But Scott can’t hear.”

Pausing, Lydia frowned. Stiles looked uncertain and even more fidgety than normal. Something really was bothering him and she couldn’t turn him away, despite her best attempt to remain aloof.

“I’ll be right back,” she sighed and disappeared upstairs. After a good five minutes of arguing, Lydia managed to convince Scott to give them fifteen minutes of privacy. It hadn’t been easy and she’d been forced to promise Scott that she would talk to Allison on his behalf even though Lydia herself hadn’t spoken to the Argent girl since the kanima incident.

Lydia called Stiles upstairs and indicated the desk chair from her spot on the bed. “You have fifteen minutes.”

“It’s about Derek,” Stiles began, and Lydia raised an eyebrow. “We’ve been hanging out more, and he comes over for dinner a lot. It’s really weird. He eats with us, he watches TV with us. Hell, I’ve even heard him _laugh._ He seems so much more relaxed. He’s like a completely different Derek.”

“You like him,” Lydia interjected.

Stiles blew out a breath and ran a hand over his buzz cut. “Yeah, I do. I don’t know how it happened. I mean, I hated him before, but now I don’t. It’s like after the attack, I understand him a little more. Sure, he’s been a jerk to us, but he’s had a lot of crap in his life.”

“Oh, my God. Stiles, are you listening to yourself?” Lydia huffed out a sigh and walked over to her desk, motioning for Stiles to move. She typed two words into Google Search, clicked on a reputable site, and printed the information listed there. “Read this.”

“What is it?” Stiles questioned as he took the pages.

“Stockholm Syndrome,” Lydia stated seriously, “is a psychological phenomenon in which hostages express empathy and sympathy and have positive feelings towards their captors, sometimes to the point of defending them.”

Stiles sputtered, “I don’t have Stockholm.”

“You,” the strawberry blonde poked Stiles’ chest, “are in denial. Derek attacked you, nearly killed you, and now you have a crush on him? You’ve even defended Derek. How is that not Stockholm?”

“He didn’t hold me hostage,” he said quickly.

“Traumatic bonding, a form of Stockholm, doesn’t need a hostage situation. Rather, this deals with strong, emotional ties that develop when one person repeatedly harasses, threatens, abuses, or intimidates someone else. Does any of that sound familiar?”

“Oh, my God. Lydia, this is... This is -” Stiles trailed off, scanning the papers. “It was an accident, okay? He never would have hurt me if he’d been in his right mind.”

Lydia shook her head. “Derek is dangerous, Stiles. He’s a werewolf, he attacked you, and he’s older than you are.”

“By seven years. That’s really a big age gap.”

“You aren’t listening to me!” Lydia cried, throwing her hands in the air in frustration. “This won’t end well. Nothing good can come of a relationship with Derek. Does he even like you back?”

“I think he does. I’ve never seen him act this way around someone. He hasn’t threatened me in weeks. He’s careful about not scaring me, too. He got irritated at something I said last week, but stopped when I freaked out.”

Lydia shook her head. Stiles was defending Derek and his actions while trying to make him sound good. “Stiles, I’m not telling you what to do, but I think you should be really careful. I mean, look at what he did to you.”

“Everyone makes mistakes. Nobody’s perfect. I chose to forgive him and move on. It does no good to hold a grudge.”

“I’m not saying you have to hold a grudge. I just don’t think dating him is the best thing to do. What about your dad? Is he okay with Derek spending time with you?”

“He’s still wary about me and Derek being alone together, but yeah. I think Dad really wants to help Derek, especially since the whole wolfsbane incident. Derek is determined to do better. He’s even enrolled at the college and is looking for a job.”

“Sounds to me like you’ve already decided to pursue Derek, no matter what I say. So why come talk to me?”

Stiles lifted his shoulders in a half-hearted gesture. “I just needed someone to talk to. I mean, Scott’s out of the question, and I haven’t told Dad that I’m gay yet.”

“I’m your last resort, then,” Lydia raised an eyebrow, then laughed when Stiles blurted out a quick apology. “It’s fine. At least now you have your thoughts all straightened out, even though I still say you have Stockholm.”

“I appreciate your concern, Lydia, but you can honestly stop worrying. Thanks for listening, by the way.”

“I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Stiles blew out a breath, “I’m fine, Lydia. I know how to take care of myself. I did stand up to an Alpha dosed up on hallucinogenic wolfsbane, after all. I even shot him.”

“And almost died in the process,” Lydia reminded him.

“God, why are you so negative about this?”

“Maybe because I don’t want to see my friend become an Alpha’s chew toy?”

“You mean more than I already was?” he joked. His grin faded at the bitch face he received. “Oh, my God. Lydia, it was a joke.”

“I don’t think it was funny,” she hissed. Her left hip throbbed, the way it usually did when remembering Peter’s attack, and she pressed her fingers over the scars.

“All right, I’m sorry,” Stiles held up his hands in surrender. A look of realization dawned on his face, and he pointed at Lydia. “You said ‘Alpha’s chew toy.’ What all do you know about this, Lydia?”

Lydia stiffened. She’d been waiting for Stiles to broach this subject again. “It doesn’t matter what I know,” she said finally.

“You bitched about being left in the dark earlier. So why not tell me what you know and I can fill you in on everything else,” the other teen suggested hopefully.

Green eyes narrowed. Stiles had an ulterior motive for asking what she knew about werewolves. Maybe he was wondering if she’d connected Peter as being her attacker. She opened her mouth but was interrupted by Scott coming through the window. 

“Sorry, but your fifteen minutes are up,” Lydia smiled sweetly.

Stiles sighed. “Fine. But this discussion isn’t over yet,” he promised.

“Hey, Stiles, you sticking around?” Scott questioned.

“No, I can’t. I have physical therapy.” He made a face. “I’ll be glad when that’s over with. I’ll talk to you later.”

Lydia shoved the Stockholm Syndrome papers under the books on her desk and crossed over to the window. She was afraid for Stiles. Derek was an experienced, older man and Stiles was recovering from an eight year long crush on her. For all Lydia knew, Derek was only being nice to Stiles to soothe his guilty conscience. Once the guilt subsided, Derek would be back to his regular, threatening, creeper self. If Stiles were to become more attached to the Alpha only to have him pull away in the future, Lydia wasn’t sure what that would do to the other teen.

“You’re an idiot, Stiles,” Lydia mumbled under her breath, staring out the window as the jeep drove away. His heart would doubtless be crushed again within the next few months, but he refused to listen to her advice. “Don’t come running back to me when he shows his true colors.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter marks the beginning of some possible dubcon. Further explanation at the end.

Soft moonlight filtered through the canopy of trees, illuminating the two figures locked in a passionate embrace. Sweat dampened strawberry blonde hair clung to Lydia’s face, and she wished she had taken the time to pull it back in a low ponytail. Her fingers carded through Peter’s hair, tugging just enough to have him growl low in his throat. The rough bark scraped relentlessly against Lydia’s bare back as he pushed her body up and dropped to his knees, his mouth attaching to a lace covered nipple.

She arched into his touch, one leg squeezing around his waist and drawing him even closer. “Oh, God. Peter,” she gasped as she rolled her hips into his.

Rising to his feet, the werewolf chuckled and nosed at her pulse point before nipping lightly. A hand slid up her side, thumb brushing the underside of her breast. “Lydia,” he breathed against her neck.

A moan tore from her throat as fingers trailed down her back and disappeared under her skirt to move teasingly against her. She kissed him hard, encouraging moans falling from her lips with each stroke of his fingers. He bit her lip, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make her hiss and draw back, raking her nails across the back of his neck in retaliation.

Peter just smirked at her displeased look, slipping a finger inside of her. Lydia keened softly, tilting her head back and he licked at the sweat forming on her throat. “My beautiful, intelligent, immune Lydia,” he growled.

Lydia’s mouth went dry when Peter glanced at her, red eyes glowing brightly in the dark. “Peter,” she whispered. He replied with a fanged grin, but instead of the panic that she usually experienced at this part of her dream, she felt calm and safe. Like she knew deep inside that he wouldn’t hurt her. Even when he lowered his head to nip and suck on the exposed flesh of her shoulder, she remained calm, repeating his name as he added a second finger. Then a third. Then...

-+-+-

She woke up.

Lydia had known it was only a matter of time before she had one of her dreams again while a werewolf was there. She wasn’t sure if she should be grateful that it had been Derek’s night to stand guard instead of Peter’s. Either way, it was embarrassing. Luckily, Derek didn’t say anything or even look at her. His jaw tightened and he kept his gaze fixed on his hands, as if deliberately doing everything in his power not to look at her.

A deep flush spread over her cheeks and she rolled over in bed, burrowing under the covers. Tomorrow she’d think more about this. She just wanted to sleep right now, and hopefully the dream would stay away.

-+-+-

“Lydia. Earth to Lydia. Hello.”

Lydia blinked, focusing on the hand waving in front of her face. “Stiles?”

“Hey, she lives. I’ve only been trying to get your attention for the past five minutes,” he huffed.

“Past five minutes?” Lydia echoed.

“Yeah. Class is over. It’s lunch now.”

She glanced at her notebook and grimaced. She hadn’t written a single thing down. “Did you take notes?”

“Yup,” Stiles grinned. “I’ll let you copy them. But only on one condition.”

“What condition?” Lydia asked uneasily, getting up from her seat and grabbing her bag.

“You have to tell me what’s going on. You’re not acting like yourself and I’m worried.”

Lydia sighed. Needless to say, she hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before and was suffering for it now. She was distracted and her mom had taken notice when Lydia had poured orange juice on her cereal. Mrs. Martin had been ready to call Ms. Morell again and it had taken Lydia a full ten minutes to convince her mom that her lack of sleep had nothing to do with nightmares.

“I just didn’t sleep well,” she explained as she stepped into the hallway. She kept a slow pace, allowing Stiles to keep up with her. He was able to walk without the crutches now, which was a good yet bad thing. It showed progress, but he still had slight pain every once in awhile when he put pressure on his left leg.

“What was the reason for not sleeping well?” Stiles persisted.

“Am I not allowed to have bad days?” Lydia snapped.

Stiles cringed. “I didn’t say that. It’s just that usually there’s an underlying reason for not sleeping well. You know, stress, nightmares. That kind of thing.”

Lydia abruptly whirled around to face her friend and found him scrutinizing her carefully. “I’m fine,” she said, barely concealing her irritation.

“No, you’re not,” Stiles took a deep breath, peering around to make sure that no one was within earshot. “Lydia, you have a lot of crap going on right now. You have hunters after you, and werewolves watching you. And while I’m still not sure how much of this you actually know about, I do know that you’re not happy about it. As much as you bitched about not knowing anything, now you’re upset because you’re in the loop.”

Strawberry blonde curls bounced as she shook her head. “You’re right. I’m not happy about any of this. But if you were in my place, I doubt you’d feel any differently.” Lydia tilted her head in the direction of the cafeteria, indicating that they should grab lunch before it was time for the next class.

They resumed walking, Stiles glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. Lydia sighed. “Stiles, I’m fine. Honestly. Once all of this is over, everything will go back to normal.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he let the subject slide, maybe sensing that Lydia was done humoring him. She gave him a grateful smile and steered the conversation in a safer direction, asking about the class that she’d missed.

-+-+-

When Lydia got home, she found Peter already there in his corner, typing away at his laptop. She paused in the doorway, nose wrinkled in distaste. She would have preferred to be alone, especially since she had a lot of thinking to do. Thinking that involved Peter himself. 

She sighed heavily and flopped onto her side on the bed, pulling out her books. Maybe she could pretend to be reading while she was actually trying to dissect last night’s dream.

It had unnerved her, that was for sure. At least in the other dreams where she and Peter were intimate, she was frightened of him in the end. This last one was a different story entirely. Even when his eyes had turned red she hadn’t pushed him away. She’d clung to him tighter, welcoming his touch even more.

She could feel her cheeks burning as she recalled the rather vivid images from her dream, which definitely weren’t helping matters. With each one, she wanted it more and Lydia couldn’t help but wonder from her reactions in the dream if Peter was as good as he seemed to be. She wanted to tangle her fingers in his dark hair to see if it was as soft as she thought it was. She wanted to physically feel his broad hands on her. His weight pressing her into the mattress. His lips covering every inch of her body.

Lydia, head tilted down so it looked like she was reading, peered up at the werewolf, drinking in his appearance. Peter was an attractive man. She would have to be blind to miss that. Peter’s brown hair was slicked back, and her fingers twitched. She noted the way he frowned slightly in concentration as he typed, his own fingers flying across the keyboard. Broad shoulders filled out the black button-up shirt he was wearing, and Lydia knew that muscular arms were hidden beneath the fabric. She didn’t have to imagine what they felt like wrapped around her waist since she’d already experienced it several times. 

Sliding her gaze lower to his jean clad legs brought back memories of the incident in the hospital bathroom. Lydia recalled sitting on his lap, feeling the muscles in his thighs tense as she’d wiggled in an attempt to free herself. His thigh muscles hadn’t been the only thing she’d felt at that time.

“Enjoying the view?”

Green eyes snapped up to see Peter casting an amused look her way, and Lydia hoped that he couldn’t see the light pink flush spreading across her cheeks. “Not at the moment, but I will once my bedroom is werewolf free again.”

“That was a lie,” Peter pointed out, eyes glinting with mirth.

“No, it wasn’t. I can’t wait until I have my bedroom to myself again.”

He chuckled lowly. “I was actually referring to the first part.”

Lydia looked perplexed until she realized what he meant. She had been staring at him with more interest than she’d wanted to show and being a werewolf, he was able to distinguish lies from the truth. Tilting her chin up defiantly, her mind spun with what she could say that wouldn’t be the truth and yet wouldn’t be known as a lie. Peter was staring at her expectantly by now. She squirmed, uncomfortable with the calculated look pinning her when she noticed something hidden in the depths of his gaze - desire. 

Taken aback, she almost missed the slight shift in his position. Oh, this was interesting.

Peter smirked, apparently under the impression that he’d won due to her silence, and turned back to his laptop.

“Did you enjoy me watching you?” Lydia inquired, her voice sweet and lilting. She raised an eyebrow knowingly, flicking her eyes down to make her point when he glanced at her.

Peter closed his laptop, carefully setting it to the side in order to give her his undivided attention. His eyes raked over her where she lay on the bed and a slow shiver traveled down her spine unbidden. Parting her lips, she ran the tip of her tongue over them, watching as his eyes darkened.

Lydia’s breathing quickened as he advanced, only stopping when he was beside the bed. He made no further movement other than cocking his head, and it dawned on her that he was waiting for her to make the next move. Rising to her knees, she kept her gaze locked on him. All of the dreams came flooding to the forefront of her memory and her mouth went dry. An electric charge coursed through her body and she suddenly became very aware of Peter’s proximity. All she had to do was lean forward an inch, and they would be pressed right against each other.

To hell with it.

Grabbing a fistful of Peter’s shirt, she swayed forward and pulled him down. Their lips were nearly touching, breaths mingling together for a few short seconds before Lydia closed the distance.

She slowly opened her mouth in response to his teeth scraping over her bottom lip. His tongue slid against hers, eliciting a low moan. Lydia curled her fingers into fists, entirely unsure of where to put her hands before reaching out with her right. Her fingertips lightly brushed up his arm to rest on his neck and she combed her fingers through the short hairs on the nape of his neck. Her dream had been right. His hair was soft.

Peter’s hand curled around her hip, the same one where he’d bitten her, she thought hazily. His thumb pressed against the scar left behind and her nails bit into his skin. He pulled her flush against him, her arms winding about his neck as the kiss deepened.

The room spun as Peter suddenly switched their position and for a split second, terror raced through Lydia until she realized that he was sitting on the edge of the bed with her straddling his lap. Taking a shaky breath as relief and indecision replaced the fear, she searched his eyes for any indication of what he might be thinking, but his expression was carefully blank. Her instincts screamed at her to run while she still could, that there was no way this would end well for her, but she buried her trembling hands in his hair and leaned forward once more.

This kiss was more intense than the previous one, neither one wanting to let the other dominate. Peter’s hands were hot through the material of her shirt as they skimmed up and down her spine. Shifting her body to a more comfortable position, Lydia didn’t miss the growl that Peter made low in his throat or the slight prick of claws against her skin and she grinned against his lips.

It pleased Lydia to know that she had an affect on the werewolf and she felt the rush of adrenaline seeping throughout her body. This could potentially be a dangerous situation for her, yet the thrill and excitement far outweighed the nervousness. She’d been literally dreaming about this for months and now that she finally had a taste of him she didn’t want to stop.

The next second, Lydia found herself on her back staring up at the ceiling with Peter nowhere to be found. She sat up, disoriented, and glanced around. Where the hell had Peter gone? And why had he left?

The second question was answered when Lydia’s mom opened the bedroom door. “Honey, don’t forget that we’re going to dinner with the Spencers tonight. The reservation is for six. We have to leave in an hour so I suggest getting ready instead of sleeping,” she motioned to the rumpled sheets.

“I wasn’t -” Lydia began to say, but stopped upon realizing that she didn’t have another good excuse as to why the comforter was wrinkled. “I forgot.”

“You might want to hurry, then,” Mrs. Martin started to close the door but stopped, “And make sure you wear something nice.”

Lydia eyed her suspiciously. “Why?

“Jonathan is going to be there, too,” her mom said after a pause.

“Oh, my God. Is this just some ploy to get me to date Jonathan?” An incredulous groan escaped Lydia’s lips. “I haven’t seen or talked to him in five years.”

“He and his parents are nice people. You remember them, don’t you?”

Lydia sighed. “Yes, I do, but that doesn’t mean I want to date Jonathan. Like I told you before, I’m not interested in anyone.”

“Lydia, all I’m asking is that you give him a chance.” Mrs. Martin came over to her daughter, placing a hand on her cheek. “I’m worried about you. Ever since what happened at formal, you rarely go out with your friends anymore. Are you really content to just laze around in your bedroom all day?”

Her mother’s concerned tone dampened Lydia’s irritation. The teenager had to admit that she’d given her mom reason for worry in the past few months. Releasing a huge sigh, she nodded to appease her mom. “I’ll be nice to him. I promise.”

“Good,” the older woman nodded in satisfaction and hugged Lydia before leaving. “Don’t forget. One hour.”

Once alone again, Lydia groaned, crossing over to her closet. She deliberated her choices as she flipped through her clothes, finally settling on a black skirt paired with a cream shirt and dark red jacket. Lydia pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it onto her bed.

“That’s a lovely outfit.”

Lydia startled, raising a hand to her lips to stifle a scream. She whirled around to glare at Peter. “God, could you not sneak up on me like that?”

Peter’s eyes twinkled. “I would apologize, but I thought it necessary to remind you that I was in the room before you undressed further. But,” he waved a hand to encompass her and her clothing, “continue what you were doing. I’m not going to complain.”

A deep red flush dusted Lydia’s cheeks as it dawned on her that he was seeing her in her bra and she resisted the deep-seated urge to cover her chest with her arms. Granted, he’d most likely seen her naked while in her mind, but somehow his being here in person made it more real. She knew Peter was baiting her, testing to see how far he could push her, before with kissing and now this. While she had no idea what exactly his game entailed, she wouldn’t let him win. It was a dangerous risk that she was taking and she could be playing right into his hands, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to back down. She would show him that she was no longer plagued by fear.

Lydia tilted her chin up, all the while maintaining eye contact as she pulled off her pants and tossed them onto the bed. Peter’s gaze burned into her and she tried to hide a smirk at his appreciative look by turning around to grab the skirt. She had to admit that she was enjoying the thrill their new game was giving her.

Lydia slowly dressed, making sure to give him the best view. Her heart was racing, and she felt light-headed from the adrenaline flooding her veins. The entire time she was getting ready, his gaze was focused directly on her and she recognized the same desire hidden in the depths of his eyes that she’d seen earlier.

Her lips curled into an amused smirk. This definitely was an interesting turn of events.

-+-+-

The Spencers were already seated when Lydia and her mother arrived at the restaurant, but that didn’t stop Mrs. Spencer from jumping up to greet them.

Aileen Spencer, a slight woman with dark blonde hair and gray eyes, pulled her in for a hug. “Lydia, look at you. It has been far too long since I last saw you. I’m glad that you’re doing well after everything that has happened. It’s just awful. We were so worried about you.” 

She and Lydia’s mom had known each other since second grade, remaining inseparable until Aileen and her family had moved away five years ago. Her husband, Kevin, a psychologist, had been transferred from a small psychiatric clinic in Beacon Hills to a hospital two hours away.

The teen flashed her a saccharine smile. She had known that the attack would be brought up at some point during the night, even though she didn’t want to talk about it. “Thank you,” she said through gritted teeth. “I had a great support system.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Spencer smiled.

Mr. Spencer came up to Lydia next, clapping a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure you were able to talk to someone, but you know that you can always call me. I won’t charge you anything, either.”

“Oh, thank you,” Lydia replied. She stepped away as soon as she was able. She’d never liked Mr. Spencer as a young child and even now, that still held true. He always had an intense look on his face, and he smelled funny, an almost sickly sweet scent hanging constantly around him.

“You remember Jonathan, don’t you?” Aileen gestured to a tall, blonde teenager with a smile.

Lydia scrutinized him carefully. He’d been an awkward eleven year old boy with braces and glasses last she’d seen him, but he’d definitely grown up in the past five years. His scrawny form had filled out, and glasses no longer hid his dark brown eyes. “I remember that he was shorter than I was, and he had braces,” she answered, realizing that everyone was waiting for a response.

Jonathan laughed, a slow, easy-going sound that made it difficult for her to hide a smile. “I always told you that I’d be taller than you one day.”

“I remember that, too,” Lydia said. “You wouldn’t shut up about it.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t bragged about being taller all the time, I wouldn’t have been constantly saying it.”

Lydia smirked, enjoying the banter flowing easily between them. Any reservations she’d had about this dinner began to melt away. While she’d told her mother that she wasn’t interested in anyone, she could keep her options open. Besides, Lydia had promised that she would be nice.

Kevin cleared his throat, interrupting Lydia’s thoughts, “Why don’t you two sit down and look over the menu? The waitress should be back in a few minutes for our drink order.”

Lydia took a seat across from Jonathan and picked up the menu, giving it a quick glance. She wasn’t very hungry so she decided on a salad and a lemonade. By the time the waitress came back, everyone had chosen what they wanted. Jonathan soon struck up a conversation with Lydia, asking the usual suspect questions. How was school? What was she interested in? Was she seeing anyone? Because he was cute, she didn’t mind answering them, although she didn’t dwell on the subject of dating for too long. Her mom might overhear and get the wrong impression.

Her phone buzzed and she dug it out of her purse, tapping the screen to bring up the text. The message was from Peter, and she frowned. The only Peter she knew was Peter Hale, and she didn’t remember adding him to her contacts.

_‘The Spencers are hunters. Other hunters are inside, too. Be careful.’_

Lydia drew in a deep breath, staring at the text. Just her luck that her mom’s best friend had married into a family of hunters. Glancing to the left, she caught sight of Peter standing outside the restaurant. She must have had a panicked look on her face because he gave her a reassuring nod and was gone the next second.

Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She’d had a bad feeling about this dinner from the beginning, but now she was able to pinpoint why. Everything that the Spencers did was cause for concern. Were they the hunters after her immunity? She assumed they were. Why else would they unexpectedly come to town for dinner after years of not visiting?

Lydia was now acutely aware of Mr. Spencer looking at her from time to time, as though he expected her to grow claws and fangs. She suspected that Jonathan also had ulterior motives for flirting with her. For all she knew, he was involved in the plan to use her immunity. And Mrs. Spencer was now quietly talking with Lydia’s mom about Lydia’s recent reclusive behavior, suggesting that Lydia talk to Kevin free of charge.

The three of them were all conspiring against her, Lydia realized with growing horror. Not to mention, Peter had mentioned other hunters. But who were they? There were too many people at this restaurant and Lydia didn’t know if any of them were hunters. Would they try to snatch her tonight with the Spencers’ help?

The skin on the back of her neck prickled. Lydia forced herself to be nonchalant as she scanned the area in front of her. She couldn’t look behind her without someone asking her what was wrong. Maybe she could excuse herself to the restroom and keep an eye out for anyone shady on her way there. No, that wouldn’t work. Most likely, the hunters would be blending in, not wanting to arouse suspicion. And what if one of them followed her and grabbed her then? Lydia knew that Peter was here, but where? Would he be able to get to her in time if the hunters caught her?

She was dragged from her thoughts by Jonathan saying her name and pulling her into the conversation. Lydia tilted her head. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

“I’m sorry I didn’t visit you after the attack,” Jonathan said. “I was away on a band trip.”

Lydia clenched her fist under the table. “That’s okay. My friends from school were with me quite a bit.” Especially Stiles, she thought, recalling the weekend he had spent at the hospital.

“Good,” he hesitated and licked his lips. “Lydia, what happened? If you don’t mind my asking.”

Lydia stiffened. Talking about the attack wouldn’t be a smart idea. The Spencers no doubt realized that she’d been attacked by a werewolf and were curious to discover what all she knew. Luckily, Lydia had had lots of practice playing the dumb teenage girl. It was a good thing she hadn’t revealed her intelligence. Before she’d found out that the Spencers were hunters, she’d been interested in Jonathan and, wanting to impress him, had decided not to show how smart she was. Her high IQ tended to intimidate most boys, thus discouraging them from dating her.

“I don’t know. The doctors told me that something bit me. I was lucky that I didn’t get sick from it,” Lydia replied, green eyes widening slightly.

“They never caught whatever did it?” Jonathan asked gently.

“No.”

“Did you see what it looked like?”

“It was too dark,” Lydia struggled to remain calm when all she wanted to do was bite his head off. He was probing for answers too much and now she was certain that he’d been only been laying on the charm in the hopes that she would tell him what he wanted to hear. Her interest in him had only helped, but not anymore. Lydia was tired of being toyed with. She took a deep breath, switching tactics.

“I”m sorry,” she whispered, voice quivering. “Talking about it is still painful for me.”

“No, it’s okay. I shouldn’t have pried. I’m sure it doesn’t help, knowing that whatever attacked you is still out there,” Jonathan placed a hand on her’s.

The strawberry blonde narrowed her eyes. What was his game? “The police couldn’t find anything.”

“The police can be idiots at times,” he mused, a thoughtful look in his eyes. “They don’t always think outside the box.”

She frowned. “I don’t understand.”

Laughing, Jonathan waved a hand, “Oh, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Lydia nodded, taking a bite of her salad. It tasted like ash in her mouth and she washed it down with a sip of lemonade. Her phone buzzed again. Ignoring her mom’s exasperated look, she read Peter’s message.

_‘They think you know more than you’re letting on.’_

Lydia rolled her eyes. _‘I think I could figure that out on my own. Anyway, there’s not much I can do about that. They’re going to believe what they want.’_

_‘Just keep acting casual. I’m sure you know how to do that.’_

_‘I’ve only spent the last year or so of my life acting like nothing was wrong. What’s one more hour?’_ Lydia tucked her phone away amidst her mom’s threat of taking it away, not even getting a chance to see Peter’s reply. With a heavy sigh, she feigned interest in Kevin’s retelling of an overseas trip gone wrong, nodding and laughing in all the right places.

It occurred to Lydia that that was all she was doing recently. Pretending that her life was normal and fine when in reality it seemed like it was falling down around her. She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat. She was tired of this charade and couldn’t wait until she was free to do whatever she wanted.

-+-+-

Lydia called out a quick ‘Goodnight’ to her mom before hurrying to her room and shutting the door. “Alone at last,” she mumbled as she flicked on the light. Her relief was short lived, however, when she caught sight of Peter’s amused expression.

“Why, Lydia, I had no idea you felt that way.”

“Dammit.”

He chuckled, “Dinner went well, I see.”

Lydia rolled her eyes, “It was absolutely wonderful. I can’t wait for the next dinner with them,” she sighed and grabbed a pair of pajamas. “So much for having had a fun Friday night.”

“It’s still early. Only eight now,” Peter pointed out. “I’m sure there are several things you could think of that would constitute ‘fun.’”

She eyed him suspiciously, but his face gave nothing away about what he was thinking. “I’m sure,” she murmured before disappearing into the bathroom.

-+-+-

Melissa McCall was the only one at home when Peter walked up to the front door the following day. Peter rang the doorbell and waited, hands clasped behind his back. He’d made sure to visit her while Scott was at work, not wanting the younger werewolf to be present while he discussed a very important matter with his mother. He could hear her footsteps coming down the stairs, and a few seconds later, the door opened.

“Hello,” Peter greeted her with a smile.

Melissa stared in embarassed horror. No doubt she was remembering their botched first date and the message she’d left a day later. Her fingers tightened around the doorknob, and Peter placed a hand on the door to prevent her from slamming it in his face.

“What do you want?” It was obvious that she was aiming for an indifferent tone, but she failed miserably when her voice cracked, belying her anxiousness.

“A chance to explain myself, if you would let me,” he answered smoothly.

“Why should I?”

“Your career could be on the line otherwise and I would hate for a wonderful nurse such as yourself to be fired.”

She was about to protest, but stopped at the serious look on his face. “You have ten minutes.” She swung the door open wider, allowing him to enter, but didn’t offer to move into the living room where they would be more comfortable.

“Thank you. First,” Peter began, “I apologize for not returning your phone call. I was going through some personal problems.”

“What else?” Melissa crossed her arms.

“I also apologize for deceiving you about my true identity.”

The woman’s face paled, and she swallowed nervously. “What?”

“My real name is Peter Hale. I was a resident in Beacon Hills Longterm Care for six years.”

“You were catatonic with burns covering your body, but somehow you’re now miraculously walking around without a single scar?” Melissa scoffed. “I think you’re delusional, and I want you out of my house.”

“I assure you, I’m not delusional. I am, however, a werewolf. I believe you’re aware of their existence?”

The nurse eyed Peter skeptically. “Yes, I am.”

“I can show you,” he offered, holding up a hand as his nails began to lengthen.

“No, it’s fine,” she hurried to say. She looked wary and took a half step back. “What do you want?”

“I’m fully healed from my injuries and I would like to return to Beacon Hills. Unfortunately, I’m unable without an alibi.” Peter looked at her expectantly, but Melissa merely gave him a puzzled expression. He leaned forward. “That would be you.”

“Why should I help you?”

Peter tilted his head, studying her. He was confident that she would help him. She simply needed a little push. “Wouldn’t you be in trouble if it was discovered that you went on a date with a patient?”

“Are you blackmailing me?” Melissa gave an incredulous laugh.

“Blackmail?” Peter laughed. “Of course not. I’m just looking out for you. With this economy, you should want to do everything in your power to keep your job. Especially since you have Scott to provide for.”

Melissa’s jaw tightened. “What do I have to do?”

“Just vouch for my story. During those six years in the hospital, I was slowly recovering from my burns. In my delusional state, I wandered away. When I finally regained my senses, I had plastic surgery to remove the burns on my body.”

She gave a quick, jerky nod. “Fine. Is that everything now?”

“Yes, I believe it is. Thank you for your time,” Peter smiled. “I can let myself out.” He turned, leaving Melissa leaning against the wall with her face buried in her hands. A smirk played on his lips as he disappeared into the growing darkness. Everything was going according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia has been having dreams about Peter, and she can't stop thinking about them. She and Peter banter back and forth, and Peter seems to dare her to do something about the tension between them. They kiss. A bit later, Lydia - having been interrupted by her mom and forgetting that Peter is in the room - begins to undress. Peter makes his presence known, but again seems to silently dare her to continue changing in front of him. Despite realizing that she could be playing right into a trap, Lydia does undress in front of him, even going so far as to give him a good view and time to watch her.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lydia's line "I can be smart when it's important, but most men don't like it" is an improv line by Marilyn Monroe from "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes."
> 
> WARNING: This is where the emotional manipulation and dubious consent comes into play. Further explanation at the end.

Two weeks slowly crawled by. Lydia, despite hating it, had grown accustomed to having someone around her 24/7. Stiles dropped by on occasion, usually before his physical therapy. Isaac had warmed up to her, and she’d discovered that he really wasn’t that bad once you got to know him. Lydia had taken to tutoring Scott with his homework, thereby keeping his grades up. Derek, however, remained aloof and constantly watched her, never dropping his guard. And then there was Peter.

Peter was still a mystery to Lydia. Ever since their kiss a few weeks ago, that was all she could think about. It had awoken a desire, a longing to have him. But she had yet to act on it. Instead, she and Peter filled their time together with coy glances and innuendo, dancing around the subject. They looked, they teased, but they never touched. There were times they were so close, but Lydia had yet to make that last leap, the final decision in whether or not to entrust her body to the man who had attacked her.

-+-+-

Lydia closed her car door, tucking her phone between ear and shoulder as she grabbed her bag and searched for the house key on her key ring. Stiles answered the phone a few seconds later.

“Lydia? Is something wrong?”

“Why is it,” she asked, unlocking the front door and stepping inside, “that whenever I call you, you immediately jump to the conclusion that something is wrong?” Lydia peered out the window after setting the alarm. She’d had the sense that she was being followed on her way home from school, but now there was nothing. She exhaled softly in relief.

“I’m just worried, okay? You have hunters after you. Hunters that are family friends, might I add. Do you know how easy it would be for them to kidnap you?” Stiles’ voice rose with each sentence until he ended in a panicky squeak.

“Stiles. Stop worrying. My God, you’re worse than my mother sometimes,” Lydia grumbled. She winced as she climbed the stairs. She’d had the misfortune of stepping the wrong way to avoid a speeding car in the school parking lot, and now little flashes of pain were sparking through her previously injured ankle. Wearing high heels didn’t help matters, either. “Besides, I have werewolves as my guardian angels. The Spencers are going to have to try a hell of a lot harder than they have been if they - Oh, my God!” Lydia shrieked, dropping her phone and bag at the sight in her bedroom.

There were clothes scattered everywhere. Her bed was a rumpled mess, and the drawers for her dresser and vanity were open. Rushing over to her desk, she noted with relief that her laptop was still in its place, but it was warm, like someone had recently turned it on.

Anger surged through her veins. Her privacy had been invaded, and she felt exposed and vulnerable. At least she didn’t have a journal like some teens did, or whoever had searched her room would have hit the jackpot. She found keeping a diary pointless. Most of a diary’s content was comprised of depressing events. Lydia didn’t like to think about them, so why would she write everything down in a book that would just remind her of how messed up her life was?

“Lydia? Lydia! What happened? If you don’t answer me right now, Derek and I are coming over. Lydia!” Stiles yelling over the phone line drew her attention away from her ransacked room.

She snatched her phone up, “No, Stiles. I’m fine. It’s just...” Lydia blew out a shaky breath. “Someone was in my room, and I think it was the hunters.”

“What? Oh, my God. Are you - Hey!” Stiles’ squawk of indignation was muffled, like someone had grabbed the phone away from him.

“Lydia,” Derek spoke hurriedly, “let me talk to Peter.”

“Peter isn’t here,” she replied, glancing around. A nauseated feeling swept over her, and she swallowed. “Oh, my God. Do you think the hunters got him?”

“I don’t know. But, Lydia, you need to get out of there right now. They could still be there. Get in your car and drive to Stiles’. He and I will meet you halfway.”

Lydia’s mouth went dry, and she slowly turned a fearful look towards her closet door three feet away, which was partially open. Her feet moved of their own accord, drawing her closer to the closet. With her heart pounding wildly in her ears, she stretched a hand out. Instinct told her to run and do what Derek had said, but she couldn’t. What if Peter was the one in there, wounded and in need of help? He had risked his life for her’s several times. The least she could do was return the favor if need be. Although, she reasoned, she had brought him back to life, so that should actually cover all the times he’d rescued her.

Curling her fingers around the knob, Lydia half-expected horror music to begin playing in the background. A deep breath, then she flung the door back, prepared to flee.

But the closet was empty. Lydia laughed shakily, shoulders slumping in relief. She wouldn’t have been surprised if there had been a hunter hiding there. Her life was basically a horror movie now, monsters and hunters lurking around every corner.

“Lydia?” Derek called her name over the phone.

“Sorry. I’m okay. I’ll stay on the phone until I get in my car,” she turned to the door and was about to leave when a dark shape leapt through the open window, feet landing on the carpet with a muted _‘thud.’_

Her fingertips pressed to her lips to stifle a scream, Lydia sagged against the wall. It was Peter. “Oh, my God. Could you not do that to me again? Dammit. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Peter didn’t say anything to her, just reached out and took her phone before gently leading her to sit on the bed. “Derek, it’s Peter. Yes, she’s fine, if a bit shaken up. There was a hunter in her bedroom when I arrived. He must not have gotten the memo that there was a half day of school today. I followed him into the woods, where he met with five other hunters. No, they said nothing of importance. You should take Isaac and search the woods a quarter mile northwest of the Hale house. Let me know if you find anything.” Peter hung up, setting the phone aside and kneeling in front of Lydia. “Lydia, honey, look at me. Are you okay?”

She nodded numbly, unable to speak past the lump in her throat.

“Good,” he murmured. His fingers stroked her hair, tucking it behind her ear. “You’re a brave girl, Lydia. And you’re strong, too. I know this is difficult, but you can make it through.”

“Just like when you were in my mind?” Lydia said, having found her voice. Her tone dripped poison and she wrapped her arms around her stomach, as if to protect herself from anything that wished to harm her.

Peter gave an amused chuckle. “Just like that.”

Lydia eyed him disdainfully. How dare he laugh like her trials were nothing. It had been seven weeks of anxiety and werewolves, an eternity to Lydia who wanted nothing to do with them. The supernatural should not be her problem, immunity or not. She just wanted to graduate from high school, move away to college, and never look back. She couldn’t do that if there were hunters and werewolves shadowing her every move. “As soon as these hunters are gone, I don’t want anything to do with the pack.”

Peter laughed, “Lydia, I don’t think you understand the severity of your situation. You keep saying ‘when this is over,’ but it will never be over. Other hunters will find out about your immunity. You’ll always be hunted, just like we werewolves are.”

She swallowed hard, tears burning her eyes. She’d never wanted this life. She wanted to go back to before she’d had a rude awakening to the world of werewolves. “It’s all your fault,” she seethed. “If you hadn’t bitten me, no one would know I’m immune.”

“They would have found out someway. You were my plan B, and you were excellent. You exceeded my expectations and did everything perfectly. Without your help, I wouldn’t be standing in front of you.”

“That wouldn’t be a bad thing.”

Peter lurched forward, and Lydia flattened herself against the bed as he loomed over her. “If I hadn’t come back to life, who would have been able to stop Jackson? No one knew how to save him, except for me. Who would have saved you from the hunters at the hospital or at the accident? Who would have known what the hunters were after? You may hate me, but without me, you would be in trouble. Without you, I would be dead,” his voice rose in intensity, “Lydia, don’t you see? You and I make a wonderful team.”

A fine shiver worked its way down Lydia’s spine. She stared at the sincere, earnest look on Peter’s face. Right now, with the werewolf’s nearness overwhelming her senses, she believed him. They were both intelligent and resourceful, and Lydia knew how to manipulate as well as Peter did. For a moment, she allowed herself to think about the possibilities that could arise if she and Peter were to work together. She could go places, get out of Beacon Hills and do whatever the hell she wanted. Lydia searched Peter’s eyes, soon finding herself lost in the crystal blue orbs. Her gaze slid lower to his lips and her own parted slightly. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she leaned forward. Peter’s warm breath ghosted over her face. and she swore she heard Peter chuckle.

Lydia raised a hand to his shoulder, sliding it down his chest. She flinched when she came across something wet and sticky. It was blood. “You’re hurt.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten about that,” Peter glanced down. “The hunter in your bedroom shot me.”

“You should get the bullet out. But not in my room!” Lydia hurried to say. “You’ll get blood all over the carpet, and it will be a bitch to remove,” she gingerly pushed him away and sat up. A quick glance at her own shirt showed that none of his blood had dripped onto her. She crossed over to the bathroom and flicked on the light, pausing when a quiet whimper echoed in the room. Icy fear gripped her heart. “Prada?” her voice quivered as she peered around, finally catching sight of the small dog curled up on the floor. “Oh, my God. Prada,” her hands hovered over him, afraid to touch him.

Peter, who had come up behind her, knelt beside her, carefully examining the dog. “He’s alive. They must have used a tranquilizer on him.”

“Is he going to be okay?”

“He should be,” Peter gently handed Prada to Lydia, watching as she cuddled him close. “We could take him to Deaton to be sure.”

A relieved look stole across Lydia’s face. “Good idea.”

“Just let me remove this bullet, and then we’ll go.” Peter shucked off his jacket and shirt, exposing a finely chiseled chest.

Lydia tried not to stare, but her eyes kept sliding over. Even when he pulled the bullet out, blood dripping from the new wound, she drank in his appearance. When Peter was fully clothed, it was difficult to see the muscle definition, but now she could see the muscles and tendons rippling in his naked torso, back, and arms.

A crimson trail slid down Peter’s chest, and without thinking, Lydia grabbed the hand towel and soaked the blood up. Her fingers brushed against his skin and her gaze immediately flew to his. Grip tightening on the towel, her eyes drifted lower to his lips before raising back up to meet his eyes. Tension sparked in the air as they scrutinized each other, neither one willing to make the first move.

Prada whimpered, breaking the spell, and Lydia reluctantly stepped back. “You should get your shirt on,” she whispered.

He nodded. “I’ll drive your car so you can hold Prada,” he said roughly. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Lydia made her escape to the car, sinking into the soft seat. She buried her face in Prada’s silky fur, hiding her red face from view as she tried to catch her breath. It had caught her off guard to see Peter like that, especially so soon after the almost intimate moment on her bed, and she had been very close to throwing caution to the wind. God, she wanted him on top of her, inside of her. A low moan fell from her lips as she pictured the scene. Running her hands over his chest, their bodies moving together, his stubble brushing against her skin.

Peter slid into the driver’s seat, startling Lydia from her thoughts. He’d changed shirts, she noticed, and was now wearing a light blue one, the color accentuating his eyes. He held up his finger, her keys jingling. “Nearly forgot these.”

She nodded jerkily and fixed her eyes on Prada. Lydia didn’t trust herself to look at Peter, although he undoubtedly could smell her arousal. She had to think about something else.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, backing onto the road.

“I think so. I just can’t believe how determined they are to find out what I know.”

“They’re hunters, obsessed with killing werewolves. Much like Gerard and Kate Argent, the Spencers are willing to do almost anything to help them achieve their goal of a werewolf free world.”

“My mom could have been home,” bile rose in Lydia’s throat, and she squeezed her eyes shut as her brain dredged up images of her mom lying on the floor bleeding out.

Peter shook his head, “But she wasn’t. Focus on that, Lydia.”

“Should we report it to the police?”

“He was wearing gloves, so they won’t find any fingerprints. As I said before when I told you about this, it’s best not to have the police involved. More collateral damage happens when people who aren’t equipped to fight the supernatural become entangled in this world.”

Lydia stared vacantly out the window at the scenery whizzing by, nodding slowly. A light pressure appeared on her arm, and she glanced over at Peter. It was the first time he’d initiated any physical contact between them, aside from the times he’d saved her from the hunters.

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Lydia. I promise.”

Smiling softly, she murmured, “I’m holding you to that. And if you break that promise, I’m going to haunt you from the grave.”

A chuckle was his only reply, and a comfortable silence that lasted the rest of the car ride soon surrounded them.

-+-+-

Lydia scratched behind Prada’s ears one last time before standing. Deaton had assured her that Prada would make a full recovery, for which Lydia was extremely grateful. As far as the vet could tell, the hunter had given the correct dosage for a dog Prada’s size, so there wasn’t any cause for concern there.

Sighing, she headed to her bedroom to begin the task of straightening up before her mother got home later that night. Peter was sitting in his usual spot, glancing up briefly when she entered.

“How’s Prada?”

“He’s sleeping again, though it should wear off within an hour or so,” Lydia held up a shirt, wrinkling her nose as she debated about washing everything. She looked at all the clothing items on the floor and frowned. Screw it. She didn’t care how much laundry that would be. There was no way she was wearing these clothes since a hunter had his filthy hands on them. Quickly sorting the clothes into piles, she threw the first load into the washer.

“Oh, dammit,” Lydia muttered when she picked up her book bag. “That was why I had called Stiles.”

“Is something wrong?” Peter questioned.

“No. We were assigned a research project in social studies today, but I don’t like my partner. Stiles suggested I ask the teacher if I could switch so the two of us could be partners, but the teacher said no. I was calling Stiles to let him know.” Lydia typed out a text and sent it. She didn’t feel like getting into a phone conversation at the moment. The earlier events had drained her energy, and now all she wanted was to crawl into bed and curl up.

“Why don’t you like your partner?”

“He’s a jackass.”

Peter laughed, “That really answers my question.”

The strawberry blonde sighed as she straightened the bed sheets, “He’s one of those teenage boys who thinks he’s God’s gift to women and superior to everyone else in every possible way. Including intelligence.”

“Ah,” Peter nodded slowly, “that’s right. The entire school believes that you’re clueless and stupid. I don’t understand why you pretend to be that way,” he mused 

Lydia shrugged, “I can be smart when it’s important, but most men don’t like it.” (Gentlemen Prefer Blondes - Marilyn Monroe)

“Intelligence is a quality I look for in a woman.”

“Then you’re not most men.”

Peter huffed out a not-quite laugh, “Let me see if I have this right, Lydia. I think you pretended to be dumb because of Jackson.”

“From what you know of Jackson, you can probably tell that he doesn’t like to be second rate at anything. He has to be the best at everything that he does. He hates it when someone overshadows him.”

“Ah, how very kind of you to do that for the sake of his low self-esteem,” Peter chuckled. “However, that’s not a healthy relationship if you have to hide aspects of your personality from your significant other. That just goes to show how immature Jackson is. He may think he’s mature, but in reality, he’s still a boy. You need a man. Someone who knows how to treat a woman.”

“Someone like you,” Lydia said. She flopped onto the bed, lying on her side with a hand perched on her hip. A rush of satisfaction swept over Lydia when Peter’s gaze strayed from her eyes to the exposed skin of her thighs. No doubt her short skirt, combined with her position on the bed, gave him an almost perfect view of her ass.

“I never said that.”

“But that’s what you were implying. What makes you think you have something that Jackson doesn’t?”

“Experience, for one thing.”

Lydia raised an eyebrow. “Experience. Well, sorry to break it to you, but Jackson and I did have sex while we were dating, so that argument is-”

“Experience in pleasuring a woman,” Peter amended. “Tell me, Lydia. Did Jackson ever get on his knees for you?”

Lydia shifted on the bed. Peter’s voice was low and almost seductive, causing a shiver to race up her spine. “No.”

“Then you were satisfied with just sex?”

Her body grew warm and Lydia hated herself for showing embarrassment. “No,” she whispered, then tossed her hair over her shoulder with a defiant look, daring him to say anything more.

“Any reason why?”

“Jackson’s a perfectionist. I didn’t always come and he saw that as a failure on his part. I mostly pleasured him.”

“So he didn’t even bother trying,” Peter mused.

Lydia barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Oral, no. Not after the first two times.”

“Such a shame. Sometimes practice makes perfect. And other times, people have natural talent.”

“Natural talent?” Lydia repeated, brow furrowed. “What do you -” Understanding dawned on her when Peter smirked. “Oh, my God. You think you can make me come?”

“I _know_ I can make you come,” Peter corrected with a smirk.

“Arrogant, aren’t we?”

“Not at all. Simply confident in my abilities.”

Lydia studied him, weighing her two options carefully. If she said yes, would she regret it later? He was 38 to her 16, not to mention the man who had held her mind hostage. She knew what he was capable of.

On the other hand, Lydia might never get this opportunity again if she turned him down. She had been wanting this a few weeks now and she knew Peter felt the same. A quick glance at the clock showed her that it was only three in the afternoon. Her mom wasn’t supposed to be back until much later that night, and Lydia was curious to know if Peter’s skills were indeed that good.

Even so, the thought of Peter giving her oral was exciting, yet terrifying. Her mouth suddenly was dry, and for a brief moment, she was afraid she might faint. Lydia drew in a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart, and closed her eyes. She knew what she wanted, and that was Peter.

Opening her eyes, Lydia locked gazes with Peter. “Let’s put you to the test, then,” she purred, tilting her head.

“I can assure you, you won’t be disappointed.” Smirking, Peter rose and stepped closer to the bed. His long fingers stroked up her leg before coming to rest on her hipbone. Lydia held her breath, watching as he looped a finger underneath the waistband of her skirt. In one swift motion, he pulled her across the bed, her legs hanging over the side. He tugged the skirt over her hips followed by her underwear, agonizingly slow and let them drop to the floor.

Lydia licked her lips. Since she was still laying down, she had to lift her head to see Peter. Every move he made was slow and deliberate, as though he enjoyed drawing this out. Spreading her legs, Peter knelt between them and bent over, stubble brushing against her skin as he pressed kisses up the inside of her thigh.

Suddenly, Lydia felt self-conscious as she realized just how intimate this was. She could count on one hand the number of times that Jackson had seen this part of her body, and he’d been her boyfriend for months. And yet here she was, offering herself to Peter of all people.

She snapped out of her thoughts when his tongue flicked out, teasing her clit, and her body jolted in response. Fisting one hand in the comforter, Lydia brought the other hand to her mouth to stifle a moan.

The sensation disappeared as Peter pulled away and he tugged on her arm. “Now don’t do that,” he chided gently. “Otherwise, how will I know if you’re enjoying yourself?”

The strawberry-blonde averted her eyes, cheeks reddening as she tried to formulate a reply. Nothing came to her, so she merely bit her lip and nodded. Her hand hovered in the air awkwardly for a few seconds before she settled it on Peter’s head, fingers curling in his hair. He smiled in satisfaction and she tugged, urging him back between her legs. He complied, chuckling softly as he did so, tongue dipping inside of her.

Pleasure spiked through Lydia as his tongue slid in and out. A low moan fell from her lips, and her hips jerked. Peter gripped her thighs, fingers digging almost painfully into her skin when she rocked her hips again. Lydia was about to voice her disapproval when his tongue delved deeper and she swallowed her complaint. Peter released his tight hold on her legs, and Lydia hooked her legs over his shoulders, ready to prevent him from pulling away again.

Peter turned his head, and Lydia could feel him grinning against her thigh. She opened her mouth to comment on that, but all that came out was a small cry as Peter sucked her clit lightly into his mouth.

“Oh, God,” she breathed raggedly.

The quiet noises Lydia made only seemed to encourage Peter more. His tongue flicked across her clit at the same time his finger slid inside of her. Lydia squirmed, mouth falling open with a quiet gasp. A second finger was added, followed shortly by a third. Her breath came in quick gasps as he nibbled on her clit, and her hips rolled into the touch.

Her fingers clutched at his hair, reminiscent of several dreams that she’d had previously. But unlike those dreams this was reality which, Lydia decided, was infinitely better. His hot breath, his tongue, and his goatee against her skin sent shivers down her spine. Her entire body trembled. Peter didn’t ease up in his ministrations and soon heat coiled deep within her belly.

When her orgasm hit, Lydia reeled from the force of it. Her back arched as she gasped and her body shuddered. Her heels dug into his back while her fingers pulled relentlessly at his hair. After the feeling faded, Lydia stared at the ceiling, panting heavily. In the few times that she had come, she’d never had an orgasm like that. 

Her fingers tugged on his hair, pulling him up her body. She gave a low moan as his jeans brushed against her sensitive clit. Peter claimed her lips and she tasted herself on his tongue.

“And your conclusion, Lydia?” Peter nuzzled her neck, tongue flicking out to lick the skin behind her ear.

She pursed her lips as she pretended to consider. “Well, it wasn’t half bad. Maybe I do need a man experienced in pleasuring a woman,” she murmured, still breathless, then raised an eyebrow at his smug look. Lydia rolled her hips into his, smirking as his chuckle evolved into a low hiss.

“You, Miss Lydia Martin, are a tease,” Peter growled lowly, his tone rough with pleasure.

A cheeky grin was her reply as she leaned up to kiss him. Slow and soft at first, but soon growing with intensity. Her arms wound around his neck and she gripped his hair tightly, angling in order to kiss him more thoroughly.

Peter chuckled into the kiss and slid his hands up her sides. His touch burned through the fabric of her shirt. Lydia deftly unbuttoned Peter’s shirt and yanked it out from under the waistband. Her nails explored his abdomen and chest, scratching lightly at the muscles shifting beneath his skin.

Peter slowly pushed her shirt up, lips following. Lydia leaned up to help him take it off. He pushed her back down on the bed, hovering over her. His lips trailed over her collarbone. He latched onto the strap of her bra with his teeth and began tugging it down her shoulder. She slid her arm out of the strap, then did the same for the other. Reaching underneath her, Peter unclasped her bra and tossed it to the side. Lydia’s back arched when Peter palmed one breast with his hand and she guided his head to the other one. He obligingly twirled his tongue around the nipple, grinning at the small shiver that ran down her body.

Peter’s tongue traced a path down to her navel before he stopped. Lydia looked at him, following his gaze to the scar on her left hip, and her heart skipped a beat. He traced the mark with his fingers almost possessively, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Lydia.

Lydia stared for a second, waiting for panic to bubble to the surface, but all she felt was an overwhelming feeling of desire. It was odd, since she was, after all, allowing Peter Hale of all people to touch her so intimately. The thought that despite everything he’d done to her, she still wanted him made her shiver. Also, there was the fact that doing this with Peter was forbidden since she was underage. That only made her craving for Peter grow, and she threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging lightly on the strands.

Confusion set in when Peter abruptly pulled away and stood up. Lydia allowed her hands to drop to the mattress. “Peter?” she said nervously. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” he stated, his voice rough, as he scooped her up and tossed her onto the middle of the bed. Peter slowly unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them lower on his hips. He stared intensely at her with darkened eyes, and she squirmed, gaze flicking from his eyes to his pants. When he made no further movement, Lydia gave a low growl and surged forward, looping her fingers underneath the waistband.

Peter raised an eyebrow, an amused smirk playing on his lips. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“Shut up,” Lydia breathed as she tugged him closer. Her tongue slid down his abs and over to his hipbone, fingers inching his jeans down a little more. She felt his fingers comb through her hair, messing it up even more than it had been earlier, and bit back a retort. It didn’t matter anymore since she was certain it was only going to get even more tangled. Pushing his pants down the rest of the way, Lydia outlined his cock with her fingertips. She tilted her head and gave him a coquettish smirk when he growled in approval.

His briefs soon joined his pants on the floor, and Lydia stared for a moment before slowly reaching out. He was thick and long and heavy in her hand. She traced the vein on the underside, smirking when a low hiss fell from his lips.

Leaning down, Lydia’s tongue slowly swirled around the tip, her fingers trailing down the length. She wrapped her lips around him. Her tongue pressed just under the head, resulting in a strangled moan as his fingers tightened their hold on her hair.

She took him further into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks and reveling in the sounds Peter was making. Lydia was thrilled with the response she was receiving, and it only made her want him even more.

Lydia hummed around his cock, and Peter thrust deep into her mouth. She nearly gagged, digging her nails into his hips to show her discomfort. He loosened his grip and allowed her to pull back so she could breathe. She shot him a dirty look, to which he replied with an amused smile that quickly changed to a hiss when Lydia sucked lightly on the head. Sinking down as far as she could, she bobbed her head and flattened her tongue on the underside of his cock.

The only warning Lydia received before Peter came was a sharp tug on her hair, and then he was spilling into her mouth. She swallowed what she could, the rest dripping down her chin. Lydia pulled back and looked at him with hooded eyes. Dragging her thumb through the cum on her face, she brought it to her lips, keeping her gaze fixed on Peter the entire time. She noted with pleasure the way his jaw tightened as she sucked her finger clean.

With a groan, Peter yanked her hand away and lurched forward, fingers digging almost painfully into the back of Lydia’s head as he jerked her in for a kiss. She moaned into his open mouth, and her nails scratched lightly as they ran up his stomach, over his shoulders and to his back. His free hand wandered to her breast, and she arched into the gentle caress. Peter’s lips left hers and moved to her neck, sucking on the pale skin before he abruptly shifted away.

“Lay down,” Peter ordered. His voice was a gravelly mess, blue eyes dark with lust.

Lydia obeyed after a second’s hesitation, unable to stop the shiver that raced down her spine as his gaze raked over her naked form. Her heart sped up when Peter crawled onto the bed, nudging her legs apart, and settled in between them.

He nipped at her neck, his hand sliding down her side to the scar on her hipbone. “Are you ready?” he asked quietly.

Lydia nodded, managing to gasp out, “Yes.” Her arms wound around his neck as Peter slid fully inside. Moaning softly, she wrapped her legs around his waist and nipped at his lower lip.

Peter hovered over her, keeping his weight on his forearms, and he lazily nuzzled the side of her face. His teeth caught her earlobe and tugged gently. Lydia waited for him to move, but he seemed content to just remain still.

“Dammit, Peter,” Lydia hissed, rocking her hips into his, “will you just move already?”

The werewolf chuckled and gave her an amused look, “So eager to begin.”

“Oh, my God. Just shut up and move!” The last word hissed through her teeth before her mouth fell open on a gasp as Peter did what Lydia demanded. “Oh, God...”

Peter took advantage of her open mouth, sliding their tongues together. Their sweat-slickened bodies easily found a rhythm, and Lydia tilted her head back as pleasure swept over her. She felt Peter’s breath puff against her neck when he licked at the sweat forming there. Her nails dug deep into Peter’s back, piercing the flesh. He moaned into the kiss and nipped too hard at her lower lip in response. A drop of blood beaded on her lip, and Peter licked it away. He rolled his hips, his cock brushing against her clit.

“Peter,” Lydia gasped, her fingers running up and down his spine before tangling in his hair. She felt him falter in his movements and looked at him, but his expression was unreadable as he stared back. Nervously, she licked her lips, wondering if she’d done something wrong.

He growled, “Say it again.”

“Peter,” Lydia whispered. A sense of thrill and pride raced through her as she noticed how Peter seemed to lose more control. His thrusts were rapid, and with her peripheral, she saw that his nails were longer. Her breathy laugh was cut off when he sealed his lips over hers, and his teeth were just a bit sharper as they snagged on her bottom lip.

Her orgasm came a minute later, intense and unexpected. “Peter!” Lydia’s shaky cry filled the room as her body tensed, muscles clenching around his cock. 

A quiet groan fell from Peter’s lips as he snapped his hips forward, and he came a few seconds later, burying his face in her neck.

Heavy pants filled the room as Lydia struggled to catch her breath. She closed her eyes as her mind processed what she had done. Sex with Peter was amazing. He had quickly learned what she liked and didn’t like. Lydia wasn’t sure why he had taken the time to commit it to memory. When she and Jackson had sex, there had been little to no foreplay, Jackson preferring to skip straight to the sex. He’d also been more interested in pleasing himself than Lydia. Lydia couldn’t exactly blame him for that, considering she didn’t always come, but a part of her hated him for that, too, for not caring about her enough to try to make things pleasurable for her. She didn’t regret it in the least, and it had certainly been the best sex she’d ever had.

Peter gave her a kiss then shifted, pulling carefully out of her. “You should sleep,” he rasped.

Lydia latched onto him, nails biting into his skin. “Stay?” She forced herself to meet his inquisitive gaze, though she was embarrassed about her request. She suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable for reasons other than her nakedness.

“For a few minutes,” he relented.

Rolling on her side so that he could lie next to her, she waited until he was situated on his side before slowly curling up with her back against his chest. An arm stretched across her waist and tugged her closer. Lydia’s heart sped up.

“Sleep,” Peter whispered into her ear.

Nodding, she yawned as she linked her fingers with his. The teen’s eyelids grew heavy while she lay there, listening to Peter’s steady breathing. Within a few minutes, she was sound asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Lydia's bedroom is ransacked. There's some sexual tension between Peter and Lydia. In a later scene, they talk about Lydia's sexual relationship with Jackson, and how Lydia didn't always climax when she had sex with him. This leads to Peter suggesting that perhaps she needs someone who knows how to please a woman - i.e. himself. Lydia weighs the pros and cons and decides to go along with Peter. They have sex.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Warnings at the end of the chapter.

“I sincerely hope that I don’t have to carry all of your purchases,” Peter commented wryly.

“Oh, stop complaining,” Lydia rolled her eyes at Peter. “You’re the one who said I shouldn’t leave the house by myself. The least you could do is be a gentleman and help.” She sifted through a rack of dresses, pulling a few out to scrutinize them closer. “Just be glad that I’m not making you pay. I thought about it, just so you know.”

“How do your parents not go bankrupt?”

“Haha, very funny. Mom and Dad give me whatever I want. Especially Dad. Ever since I chose living with Mom over him, he bends over backward for me.”

“Daddy’s little girl?” Peter smirked.

“Mm. I just know how to get what I want.” Lydia held a dress up to her body. “Definitely trying this one on.”

“That one looks more revealing than any of the clothing you have at home.”

Lowering the dress, Lydia stared aghast at him. “Have you been going through my closet?”

“I’ve gotten lost in there is more accurate,” he remarked dryly.

“I don’t have that many clothes,” the strawberry-blonde protested.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “I beg to differ.”

She huffed and rolled her eyes, planting a hand on her hip. “Well, stay out of my closet and then you won’t get lost. I’ll be back. I need to try this on.”

He watched as she flounced away before wandering over to the men’s section. He would need to buy new clothes eventually, if he planned to officially re enter society now that he had Melissa McCall as his alibi in place. Perhaps he would even apply for a job at the high school as a history teacher.

The scent of wolfsbane distracted him from continuing that thought process. He scanned the area for the source, locating two women who were slowly making their way to the dressing room.

Lydia.

Checking on the clerks, he noted that they were all busy with their own tasks, and he slipped towards the women’s dressing room. Lydia was the only occupant, and he scaled the door, lowering himself into the stall.

Lydia gasped, visibly startled, and he quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. He put a finger to his lips and removed his hand when she nodded. The hunters’ scents wafted over to him. He tensed, stood on the low bench, and peered over the top of the stall.

The women had managed to swipe the keys from the counter and were opening each stall to search for Lydia. This wouldn’t be as easy as the hospital bathroom, he thought grimly. Motioning for Lydia to come over, he bundled up her clothes, thankful that she’d only decided to try on that one dress.

Peter lifted her up and swung her onto his back. Her arms automatically clasped around his neck as he checked on the hunters. He ducked down when they arrived at the stall next to them. Lydia trembled against him, her hot breath puffing against his neck. A quick squeeze to her thigh, and she relaxed.

The hunters moved to Peter and Lydia’s stall, and Peter hefted himself and Lydia into the one that had just been searched. They made it with only a second to spare. Lydia exhaled softly, but Peter remained alert, ready to move should the hunters decide to look again.

Hushed whispers passed between the women as they resigned themselves to the fact that once again, Lydia Martin had slipped through their fingers. Soon, their footsteps were heard going to the front, but Peter waited another minute to make sure they were gone before setting Lydia on her feet.

“I’m beginning to think you enjoy these moments,” Lydia muttered under her breath. “You have an excuse to hold me.”

Peter chuckled, “I need an excuse?”

She flushed prettily, curls bouncing as she shook her head.

“I didn’t think so.” He handed her clothing over. “Here, get changed.” Crossing his arms, he leaned against the wall. “Hurry along now. We don’t have all night.”

“You’re not going to turn around?”

“I’ve seen you naked before, Lydia,” he quipped dryly. “You practically stripped for me a few weeks before we slept together, and you’re worried about decency now?”

After a beat of silence, Lydia huffed and peeled off the dress. Peter took the opportunity to appreciate the view. He could see her reflection in the mirror. There were faint scratches on her sides, and he could see the scar on her hip.

White hot desire pulsed through him, straight down to his cock. Peter hissed out a low breath as his eyes darkened. Every impulse in his body screamed for him to take Lydia right there. He ached to pin her down, mark her body with his teeth and claws. He knew that she would reciprocate, give it back to him as good as he gave it to her. Not that it would do much. Her teeth and nails pierced his skin, but the marks didn’t last long. Unlike the ones he’d given to her.

He took a half-step forward before he caught himself, and Lydia raised an eyebrow at his reflection. The triumphant expression as she flicked her gaze down to his groin did nothing to quell the storm raging inside. Peter clenched his hands into fists to prevent himself from grabbing her and tilted his head back to stare at the ceiling. He didn’t even dare look at her lest he take her right then and there. It was neither the time nor place.

“The hunters are still in the store, Lydia. There’s no time to buy the dress,” Peter told her. “You are going to leave the dressing room first to make sure that the clerks aren’t looking over here. Then we both leave as quickly and quietly as possible. Understood?”

Lydia nodded, her face pale.

He reached over and touched her cheek. “Act natural, Lydia. Pretend as though nothing were wrong.”

She pursed her lips before tossing her hair over her shoulder, a haughty tilt to her chin. “Right.”

Peter opened the door, and she slipped out. When he heard her whisper that it was clear, he followed her out. The hunters were across the store, but he still urged Lydia to move faster by pressing a hand to the small of her back. He and Lydia were almost to the exit when a clerk called out for them to have a nice day.

“Damn,” Peter murmured as the hunters looked over.

“They’re following us,” Lydia whispered.

“I realize that,” he replied. “Take off your shoes.”

Lydia scrunched her nose at him as they hurried towards the mall’s exit. “And walk barefoot on the dirty floor?”

“I can’t carry you so we can go faster unless I want to cause a scene. So take off your damn shoes.”

Lydia scowled but removed her shoes. “These floors are disgusting.”

“Maybe if you didn’t wear heels that high, you could walk faster.” Peter moved behind Lydia, shielding her from the hunters. He kept a close eye out for any back-up the women might have called. Someone bumped into him, and Peter turned his head to look. It was the same hunter who had crashed into Lydia’s car a few months ago. Noting the syringe in the man’s hand, Peter easily evaded being stabbed by it.

A second hunter was heading for Lydia, and Peter made the quick decision to reach over and pull the fire alarm. A panic settled over the crowd as everyone screamed and made a mad dash for the exits. Peter grabbed Lydia and picked her up.

“It’s me, Lydia,” Peter said into her ear when she gasped and struggled against his hold.

She immediately relaxed, allowing the werewolf to carry her safely through the swarming crush of people. Neither of them spoke until they were in the parking lot.

“Did we lose them?” Lydia questioned.

“Yes.” Peter set her on her feet and steadied her while she put her shoes back on. “I doubled back and went out an exit that was further away. The car is over here.” He began to lead her forward once more.

“That was exciting,” Lydia murmured. “And very disappointing. I liked that dress.”

So did he, Peter thought but didn’t voice it aloud. He helped Lydia into the car and paused for a moment. A hunter was standing on the sidewalk, scanning the parking lots. Luckily, the crowd streaming from the mall hid Peter from view.

“Peter? Is everything okay?” Lydia’s voice filtered out to him from inside the car.

“Everything’s fine.” Sliding into the car, he offered her a smile. “But until this situation is dealt with, I highly suggest avoiding public places.”

The strawberry-blonde groaned and rested her head against the window. “I feel like I’m under house arrest.”

“It won’t be for too much longer,” Peter assured her, backing out of the parking space and driving away. “They’re becoming impatient. They’ll try again soon, and we’ll be ready.”

“What is the pack going to do with the hunters?”

“Derek believes that the hunters should be kept alive. He doesn’t seem to have a problem with fighting them away for the rest of his life,” Peter replied.

“And what about you?”

“I’m letting them live.”

“Liar.”

“Why, Lydia,” Peter’s tone was laced with fake hurt, but a smirk tilted his lips and the corners of his eyes crinkled, “it troubles me that you don’t believe me.”

“You’re not really pack. You may act like you are, but that’s all it is. An act. You do whatever you want, no matter what you’re told. You’re not a Beta,” Lydia said softly. “You’re an Alpha.”

Peter gave her a smile but said nothing. Lydia wasn’t wrong with what she had said. He didn’t follow orders, preferring to be the one in charge. He had his own ideas about what to do and strongly disagreed with most opinions. Unlike some other werewolves, Peter didn’t hesitate to do whatever was necessary in order to survive.

He was pleased to know that Lydia thought he was meant to be a leader. Maybe someday, but for now he had to content himself with the illusion of being in a pack.

-+-+-

The cafeteria was noisy as Lydia flounced over to the table where the pack was sitting and slid in beside Stiles. “Hello,” she said brightly.

Scott eyed her suspiciously. “What’s got you in a good mood?”

“It’s Friday,” she said simply, taking a sip of water.

Which wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the only reason, although she wouldn’t admit that. Lydia had gotten out of the shower that morning and discovered a dress hanging by the sink. She’d stared at it for a moment before realizing that it was the same dress she’d tried on the two nights ago while shopping with Peter.

Lydia wasn’t sure what to think of the fact that Peter had gone back to buy the dress for her. It was a nice feeling, though, having someone dote on her. Jackson would have done it only if she’d nagged him about it. Peter wasn’t even her boyfriend, and he was buying her things.

Of course, she remembered how he’d been staring at her in the dressing room while she was trying on the dress. Since tonight was Peter’s turn to watch her, she figured she would wear it, positive that the afternoon would be rather interesting if she wore the dress.

Over the course of the past two weeks, she and Peter had slept together several more times. It didn’t make any sense when Lydia thought about it. Before, she’d been terrified of Peter’s fangs and claws, but now there was only the smallest fraction of apprehension. She got a thrill every time. She could feel his muscles bunching beneath his skin, and she couldn’t help but marvel at his strength. Lydia knew that he was holding back, careful not to break her. He never left deep scratches or bite marks, for which Lydia was grateful. She figured that he didn’t want to chance anyone seeing them.

There were times, however, when Lydia would catch Derek eyeing the bed suspiciously, and she realized that he could probably smell Peter all over the comforter. But Derek never said anything, only looked worried and upset. She wasn’t sure if it was out of respect for her privacy or fear of what was really going on. Isaac had also noticed Peter’s scent on her bed, but he had yet to say anything. Scott was the only werewolf who was oblivious to Lydia and Peter’s affair. Which Lydia was grateful for because she had no doubt that it would have fallen under Scott’s ‘don’t do anything to hurt Lydia’ speech.

Lydia knew that the tension between Peter and Derek hadn’t died down. If anything, it seemed to be getting worse. Isaac had told her that the two Hales had differing opinions on what to do with any hunters they came across. Peter had no qualms about killing them, while Derek insisted they keep their hands clean of any blood.

“Derek,” Isaac imitated Peter, complete with Peter-like facial expressions and gestures, “as far as we know, the Spencers are the only hunters who know about Lydia’s immunity and are willing to use it to their advantage. If we kill them, we don’t have to worry about anyone else.”

“If we kill them,” Scott argued as ‘Derek,’ “then we’ll bring the Code carrying hunters down on us. It’s not worth it.”

Lydia dissolved into giggles, “Oh, my God. Is that what really happened?”

Isaac shrugged, “There was more growling and glowing eyes, but yeah, basically.”

“Who won the argument?” Lydia questioned.

“Derek,” Stiles piped in.

“But only because Peter backed down,” Isaac frowned.

“Yeah, that was weird,” Scott agreed.

Lydia paused, fork halfway to her mouth, “ _Peter_ gave in to Derek?”

Nodding, Isaac replied, “Kind of. I have a feeling that he won’t listen if there is an incident with the hunters.”

“If anything, he just decided not to press the issue at that time,” Scott added.

Lydia tilted her head and mulled over what they had said. It definitely wasn’t like Peter to stop pursuing something.

“Lydia?” Stiles put a hand on her arm. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine,” Lydia managed to say. She offered him a smile and took another bite.

“Okay,” Stiles said, sharing a look with Scott and Isaac.

She ignored them, focusing instead on her lunch which now tasted like ash. She pushed her plate away and stood up. “I’m done.”

“I’ll come, too!” Stiles quickly got to his feet and cringed, hand flying to his hip.

Lydia sighed, “Just stay here. I have to use the restroom, then I’ll be back.”

“Are you sure?” Scott furrowed his brow.

She laughed, “The bathroom is just down the hall. I think I’ll be okay.” The three boys nodded in unison, and Lydia quickly headed to the bathroom. She was almost back to the cafeteria when one of her teachers caught her, telling her that she was needed at the office. Apprehension knotted in her stomach as Lydia made her way there. Her first thought was that the hunters had gone back to her house and done something horrible to her mom. But she quickly pushed that aside. Her mom was currently at work, showing a house to a potential buyer.

When she got to the office, the teen stared at the heavy door for a second before slipping inside. The door swung shut behind her, reminding her of a gunshot, and she flinched. The secretary glanced up, and Lydia noticed Ms. Morell standing nearby. “Is something wrong?” Lydia asked, looking between the two women.

“We received a phone call from the hospital. Your mom was in a car accident,” the guidance counselor placed a comforting hand on the teen’s shoulder.

Lydia’s heart plummeted, and for a moment she could only stare in horror. “Oh, my God. Is she okay?”

Ms. Morell shook her head, “They didn’t say much. Just that it was urgent and you need to get there as soon as possible. A family friend is coming to pick you up, so you need to get your things together now.”

Biting her lip, Lydia drew in a deep breath and nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak. Pivoting on her heel, she stared at the door for a few seconds before opening it. As she stepped out of the room and into the hallway, she imagined leaving all her worries in the office. Lydia knew that she had to be calm and levelheaded. Panicking wasn’t going to help her mom.

Lydia hurried to her locker and removed her belongings. On her way back to the office, she paused and changed direction to the cafeteria. As much as she hated reporting to anyone, the pack needed to know where she was going.

“Lydia.”

She whirled around, strawberry-blonde hair swishing over her shoulder. She gripped her bag tightly as her mouth went dry. “Mr. Spencer?”

“I’m here to take you to the hospital. We should go now,” he said with a warm smile that showed too much teeth.

Warning bells went off in the back of Lydia’s mind. As far as she knew, none of the Spencers were on the emergency contact list since they lived two hours away. “I don’t think I should go with you,” she shifted backwards, an uneasy feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

“This really is no time to be arguing. Your mom is in the hospital, and we need to go. Now.”

Lydia hesitated. If Kevin were telling the truth, Lydia could be wasting valuable time. On the other hand, this could all be a ploy to get Lydia to go willingly with them. There was only one way to find out. She pulled her cell out of her purse.

“What are you doing?” Kevin’s voice was cautious, and he took a half-step towards her.

“I’m calling my mom.”

“She’s not going to answer,” he sounded confident, yet the look in his eyes betrayed his apprehension.

She shrugged and lifted the phone to her ear, “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough.” It rang once, twice, before Kevin was in front of her, his hand pressing over her mouth as he wrenched the cell from her hand.

He cancelled the call and turned it off, his gaze never leaving hers. She made an attempt to duck free of his grasp, but he took hold of her arm. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Kevin moved his coat just enough for her to see a holster strapped to his pants. “I won’t hesitate to use it on anyone if you try to call for help.”

Lydia nodded jerkily, swallowing hard. She was reminded of the incident with Peter in the bathroom stall. Peter had also covered her mouth with his hand, but at least he’d had the decency to ask her to be quiet, instead of threatening her like Kevin had.

“Good. Now let’s go.” He tugged on her arm, and she trailed along beside him.

The hallway leading to the exit seemed to stretch on forever. Lydia’s heart was pounding, and terror multiplied with every step. Her hands trembled, and she feared that her legs wouldn’t support her. Casting a glance behind her, Lydia searched for Scott and Isaac coming to her aid, but the hall remained empty.

They reached the parking lot, and Kevin led her to a black SUV, pointing to it. “Get in the car.” The back door opened from the inside, revealing another hunter.

Lydia looked at both hunters, and in a split second, she made up her mind to run, wrenching free from Kevin’s grasp and making a break for the school. She was counting on the fact that they needed her alive and wouldn’t shoot her, unable to risk the slim chance of her bleeding out. Although that would certainly be one way of getting her blood.

Footsteps pounded on the pavement behind her, and she willed herself to move faster. At least she was wearing boots with chunky heels instead of thin ones. It didn’t matter in the end when Kevin grabbed her shoulder, yanking her off balance. Lydia cried out as Kevin held her limbs tightly.

“You stupid girl. You shouldn’t have tried to run. Marcus,” Kevin barked, “get the syringe.”

Lydia opened her mouth, but before she could get a sound out, Kevin’s hand clamped down hard, muffling anything she tried to say. He held her still while Marcus found the vein in Lydia’s neck and injected the sedative. Lydia could feel it beginning to spread through her system almost immediately. She couldn’t help but wonder where Scott and Isaac were. Surely they could hear this, even with the noise from the cafeteria. Not to mention, she’d said that she would be right back, and that had been close to fifteen minutes ago.

“Hey!”

Finally, Lydia thought before realizing that the voice didn’t belong to anyone from the pack. It was the Coach.

“Hey, what are you doing?” the Coach called again.

Through her hazy vision, Lydia saw Kevin pull a gun from a holster and point it at Finstock. She tried to scream to warn him, but her mouth wouldn’t work. A loud bang ripped through the air, and Lydia watched in horror as the Coach fell to the ground. Whimpering, she struggled weakly, but found that her limbs were too heavy to move. Where was the pack?

“Lydia!”

“Peter?” she slurred as she forced her eyes to focus on the werewolf running towards them. The sedative almost had her completely under its affect.

Panic. Urgency.

A brief flash of those emotions broke through the haze surrounding Lydia. She blinked, struggling to clear her mind. The drug? It was probably the drug giving her those feelings.

“Nick, take care of him,” Kevin called out. A third hunter jumped out of the front passenger seat, brandishing a gun. Kevin turned to the hunter holding Lydia. “Get her in the car,” he spat out as he dashed around to the driver’s side.

“No,” Lydia mumbled, willing her body to move. Nothing happened, and she let out a half-sob. The last thing she saw before darkness overtook her was Peter fighting to get over to her.

-+-+-

When Lydia came to, the SUV was rolling to a stop. She had no idea how long they’d been driving. At some point, someone - she was assuming it was Marcus - had tied her hands and put a bag over her head, so there was no way for her to know if it was still afternoon or night. She heard car doors open right before she was grabbed and yanked harshly, the seatbelt digging into her stomach.

“Wait,” she mumbled, fumbling for the release.

“Hurry up and get her out of the car, Marcus,” Kevin yelled.

“Why don’t you do it instead,” Marcus grumbled under his breath. He smacked Lydia’s hands away and unbuckled the belt. “Let’s go.”

The body warmed leather seats stuck to the bare skin of her legs as she was dragged out of the SUV. Still groggy from the sedative, Lydia’s body felt heavy, and she was unable to maneuver her legs fast enough for her to stand. She fell to her knees, scraping them on the gravel before Marcus hauled her to her feet.

“Keep walking,” he grunted.

Her legs were also stiff from sitting for so long without moving, and she stumbled forward, trying to keep up with the hunter as he pulled on her bound arms. Gravity worked against Lydia once more when her foot bumped into a concrete step, and she gasped.

Marcus swore loudly and abruptly slung her over his shoulder. Heat flooded Lydia’s face as she wished that she’d worn a longer dress. Frustrated tears gathered at the corner of her eyes, and she bit her lip. She would not cry.

“Put her in room three,” Kevin ordered.

Lydia heard a heavy door creak and groan as it opened. A few seconds later, she was roughly dropped onto a bed, Marcus’ hands lingering longer than was necessary. She shrank away from the touch. Marcus laughed, and the sound chilled Lydia to the bone.

“You might as well get comfortable. You’re going to be here for a while.”

Footsteps clunked across the floor, followed shortly by the door slamming shut. Sitting up, Lydia slowly removed the bag and looked at her new surroundings. The bed was bolted to the wall, and the room was poorly lit, the only source of light being a single lightbulb in the middle of the ceiling. The entire cell was tiny, maybe ten feet by ten feet. There was a handle on the inside of the door, but it wouldn’t budge when she tugged on it.

Lydia slumped back on the bed, covering her face with her tied hands. The situation seemed hopeless. The hunters would be able to work on their antidote, and the pack had no idea where she was. There was no guarantee that they would be able to locate her before the hunters found a way to utilize her immunity correctly.

At least Peter knew who had kidnapped her. They could look for information regarding the Spencers and try to pinpoint a location. She wondered if any of Peter’s contacts he’d mentioned weeks earlier would be able to help.

What if the pack didn’t find her? Would she be stuck here forever, or would the hunters let her go after they got her blood?

Panic and helplessness threatened to overwhelm her, and she struggled to take deep calming breaths. Lydia had to get in control of herself. People who panicked were less likely to survive. Granted, the hunters didn’t want to kill her. At least not yet. What if her immunity didn’t work to kill werewolves? Would they kill her then?

No. The pack would find her. Scott and Stiles wouldn’t rest until she was safe, and the rest of the pack would help, too. It might take a while, but Lydia didn’t doubt that she would be found.

-+-+-

The two story house at 239 Coral Drive was beautiful. The lower floor had a kitchen, living room, dining room, and a half-bath. There were three bedrooms, an office, and a full bath upstairs. One of the bedrooms was the master bedroom which had a bathroom attached. Perhaps too big for a single male, but Peter didn’t mind.

The house was also in excellent condition. There was a short driveway leading to a two car garage. A row of hedges surrounded the property, and the backyard had enough room for a grill and patio should he wish to install one. He hadn’t decided whether he would keep the swingset in the corner or not. Although if anyone from the pack had children, it would serve its purpose.

The appliances in the kitchen were basically brand new, the former owners having bought them a few months before their deaths. The color scheme was something he definitely wanted to change. Yellows, creams, and white didn’t suit his tastes. The gray siding, however, could stay.

“I find it hard to believe that no one has snatched this charming place up already,” Peter mused, glancing at the real estate agent. Nina Martin. Lydia’s mother.

“I have to admit, I’m rather surprised that you’re interested in buying this house. Usually, people tend to stay away from houses where someone has been murdered,” Nina Martin said.

Peter hummed and smiled. “That sort of thing doesn’t bother me. It simply adds more character.”

Nina laughed, “I’ve been trying to sell this property for a few months now, and you’re the first person to say that.”

“I suppose that makes me the perfect buyer, then.”

“Indeed,” the real estate agent agreed. “Shall we go over the contract, then?”

“Of course.”

For the next thirty minutes, they discussed payment and the terms of the contract. Peter was amused by Nina’s apparent interest in him. He played along with it, knowing that he wouldn’t act on it. Although, he mused, it would be interesting to see Lydia’s reaction if he were to take her mom on a date.

Speaking of Lydia...

Peter frowned. He had a feeling that something was wrong. Closing his eyes briefly, he focused on Lydia. Panic and terror were her main emotions at the moment.

“I hate to rush off like this, but I have a prior commitment to keep,” Peter explained. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”

“Same here. It’s wonderful that you recovered from your injuries, by the way. Your nephew must be thrilled.”

“Ecstatic,” Peter lied before turning to the car he had bought earlier that morning. “Thank you for the assistance today.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Nina called back with a cheery wave.

Returning the gesture, Peter turned the ignition on and drove away. The school was fifteen minutes away. Peter had dismissed the notion of running there. It was broad daylight, which heightened the risk of someone being able to see him moving faster than a normal human could.

Upon reaching the school, he threw the car into park and jumped out just as a shot rang through the air. The smell of blood was quickly permeating the air, and he noted that it wasn’t anyone from the pack. Coach Finstock was lying on the pavement in a slowly growing puddle of blood. He was barely conscious, but he wasn’t Peter’s main concern at the moment.

Lydia was currently being dragged to an SUV by Kevin Spencer and another hunter, and Peter snarled. “Lydia!” He dashed towards them, watching as the girl barely lifted her head to look at him. He could hardly hear her say his name. The hunters most likely had sedated her in an effort to keep her under control.

A third hunter hopped out of the SUV and began firing at Peter, allowing the others a chance to escape. Peter’s patience thinned, and he charged the hunter. His claws sharp, Peter reached out and slashed the guy’s throat. He felt no remorse as blood spattered on him, and the hunter slumped to the ground. 

By then, it was too late to go after the other hunters. They were already gone. Peter tilted his head. The school was on lockdown after the gunshots, and he knew that the police were on their way. Flicking some of the blood off his fingers, he turned towards Finstock.

Peter removed Finstock’s jacket and pressed it against the bleeding wound. The least he could do was try to stop the bleeding. Finstock had, after all, tried to save Lydia from being kidnapped. The Coach was unconscious, his breathing shallow and his face pale. Whether he would survive or not was a toss-up. 

Sirens in the distance warned Peter of the police’s approach, and he stood up. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the rest off as he headed towards his car. It wouldn’t fare well for him if he were to be caught by the police at a crime scene.

As he pulled away from the school, he sent a text to Derek. _‘They have Lydia.’_

Derek’s reply came a moment later. _‘Dammit. Meet at Stiles’ around three. We need to get her back.’_

Peter sat at a stop sign, watching in the rearview mirror as several police cars and ambulances swerved into the school parking lot. It would be interesting to see what story they would concoct upon finding Finstock bleeding from a gunshot wound and a man with his throat ripped out.

He turned left. There was still time to kill before the meeting. He could research more about the Spencers and any property affiliated with them.

-+-+-

It was nearly three in the afternoon when the pack met at the Stilinski house to formulate a plan to rescue Lydia. From his position by the window, Peter glanced around the room. Stiles, Scott, and Derek were sitting on the couch, with Isaac hunched over on an armchair.

“Aside from Coach Finstock, no one else knows who kidnapped Lydia,” Stiles mentioned.

Scott nodded. “He’s still in surgery, but Mom said that she’d let me know when he was out.”

“Finstock is still in danger,” Peter said. Everyone turned to look at him as he continued. “He can identify the kidnappers. They’ll try to kill him again, and we can use that to our advantage.”

“We stop them from killing Finstock, then follow the hunters back to where they’re keeping Lydia,” Derek said.

“That’s what I’m hoping,” Peter stated. “However, it is possible that they will lead us to a different base.”

Isaac butted in, “We’ll just have to take that chance, though, right? I mean, we can’t just leave Lydia in the hands of the hunters.”

“They’re going to begin testing her blood immediately, and a hunter is most likely on standby near the hospital, waiting for the right moment,” Peter said.

“So what are we going to do with the hunters?” Scott asked, his brow furrowed.

“Kill them.”

“Leave them alive.”

Isaac hung his head and sighed. “Here we go again.”

“Peter,” Derek said evenly, “we already discussed this. We are leaving the hunters alive.”

After a tense few seconds, Peter dipped his head in agreement. “We’ll leave them alive, then.” He watched as Derek scrutinized him carefully, searching for any telltale signs that his uncle had lied. Peter was unconcerned. In his 38 years of life, he’d learned a few tricks about lying. You had to believe that what you were saying was the truth and control your heart rate and breathing.

It didn’t matter to Peter that Derek didn’t trust him. No, what irked Peter the most was that Derek didn’t seem to understand that sacrificing one’s morals was a necessary evil at times. If they were to leave the hunters alive, they would just come back for Lydia at a later date. Not to mention, it was a possibility that they already had her blood and were combining it with the antidote. Peter doubted that the Spencers had broadcasted their knowledge of Lydia’s immunity, since they would want to be hailed as the victors of the war between werewolves and hunters. Therefore, it was safe to assume that by destroying any research the Spencers had -- and killing the Spencers themselves -- that Lydia’s immunity would once more be a secret.

Shifting his attention back to the rescue plan, Peter knew that it would be up to him to ensure that this would never happen again to Lydia.

“I’m going,” Stiles was arguing. “You need me. You’re infiltrating a hunter’s base, which no doubt has been designed to keep werewolves at bay.”

“No,” Scott protested. “You can’t heal like we can. You’re human.”

“But that’s why we should take him,” Peter interrupted smoothly.

Stiles threw his hands in the air. “Thank you.”

“Absolutely not,” Derek said.

“Dude, I’ve helped before. What’s different now?”

“Your hip. I know it bothers you. What happens,” the Alpha continued, “if you’re trying to run away and your hip gives out? The hunters will kill you.”

“I’ll stay out of the way,” Stiles said.

Scott shook his head. “Liar.”

“Come on!” Stiles exploded. “Just let me go with you.”

“We’re wasting time arguing,” Peter stated flatly, flicking his gaze to the clock to emphasize his point. “Stiles is coming with us. He might be the only way we can get inside.”

“Are you going to watch out for him?” Derek asked.

“No. That’s your job,” Peter told him pointedly.

Derek stared at Peter for a moment before grunting. “Fine.”

“We should go now,” Isaac said.

“Scott, you ride with Stiles. Isaac and Peter, you two are with me,” Derek said.

Peter held up his keys. “I’m taking my own car.”

“Okay.” His nephew eyed him suspiciously but didn’t press further.

As the five of them headed towards their respective cars, Peter took the opportunity to check his phone. There were no new messages, and he frowned. His source hadn’t contacted him in a few hours, and he was beginning to wonder if she’d been discovered. If that was the case, then the pack would be in for a struggle to retrieve Lydia.

“Peter,” Derek said tersely, breaking through Peter’s thoughts. “Is there anything important you would like to tell us?”

“No,” Peter replied smoothly, slipping his phone back into his pocket. “We’ve wasted enough time as it is. It can wait.”

-+-+-

The grating sound of the door creaking open jarred Lydia awake. She blinked several times to clear the sleep from her eyes, finally focusing on Kevin. “Let me go,” she finally said.

“Not possible,” Kevin replied as he stepped closer. “This would have been easier if you’d just come willingly. We gave you a chance to tell us, but you were intent on protecting the werewolves.”

Lydia said nothing but watched the older man warily.

“Lydia, we know that you were attacked by an Alpha. It was a traumatizing experience, I’m sure. Haven’t you ever wanted to get revenge?” He sat on the foot of the bed, his tone earnest and caring. “We can help you with that.”

“No,” Lydia whispered. “I didn’t want revenge. I just wanted out of that life.”

“And you can be, Lydia. All you have to do is give us some of your blood, and the werewolves will be gone. You won’t have to worry about them anymore.”

Shaking her head violently, Lydia pressed further against the wall. “No.”

Kevin sighed, “We’re going to get your blood anyway, so why not just say yes? I guarantee it won’t be as painful if you agree.”

“I’m not going to help you kill werewolves. They don’t deserve to die.”

“Oh, they have really brainwashed you. Those monsters are dangerous. You should know this firsthand.”

“Hunters can be just as dangerous. You shot the Coach,” Lydia hoped that he was alive.

“He got in the way,” Kevin gave a nonchalant shrug.

“You’re the real monster,” she whispered.

The hunter laughed incredulously, “A werewolf attacked you, and I’m the monster?”

“You crashed into my car. You’ve been stalking me, and you ransacked my bedroom. You’re going to use my blood so you can kill all of the werewolves, even the innocent ones.” Lydia shifted uncomfortably when Kevin scrutinized her closely.

“Why are you protecting them?” he asked.

“They’re my friends.”

Kevin didn’t say anything more on the subject but stood and crossed over to the door. “We’re going to test your blood in an hour. You decide whether you come along peacefully or not.” He banged once on the door, and a loud click echoed in the room. Kevin opened the door and left.

Lydia pressed her palms into her eyes to hold back the flood of tears. She just wanted to go home.

-+-+-

True to his word, Kevin returned an hour later. He placed the bag over her head and led her from the cell. Lydia wished that she could see where she was going. One minute she was walking, and the next thing Lydia knew, she was abruptly whirled around and pushed into a chair.

“Stay there,” Kevin ordered.

Lydia forced back a smart remark. With a bag over her head, there was no way she was going to attempt to escape. She felt her arm being grabbed, and the prick of a needle on her forearm not long after. She hissed out a low breath and jerked in surprise.

“Keep still, or this is going to hurt more,” Kevin muttered.

Lydia didn’t move as Kevin drew blood. Finally, they stopped. No doubt he had taken as much as he could without harming her, though she felt lightheaded.

“Come on.” Kevin jerked her to her feet.

She stumbled forward, and if she could see the room, she knew it would be spinning. But Kevin didn’t wait for her to regain her balance before leading her out of the room. Surprise flitted through her when he pulled the bag off, and she blinked owlishly against the bright lights.

“There’s someone I want you to see,” Kevin explained as he came to a stop in front of a metal door. He slid back a small grate and motioned for Lydia to come closer.

Standing on her tiptoes, she peered through it into a tiny cell much like the one she’d been in. She looked around and gasped when she caught sight of frizzy blonde hair. “Erica?”

The girl turned. “Lydia?”

“Oh, my God,” Lydia uttered in shock. “Erica, are you okay?” She cringed after the words left her mouth. Erica clearly was not okay. She looked to be in desperate need of a shower, and her clothes were dirty and torn.

“I’ll be okay. What are you doing here?”

“They kidnapped me.”

“What? Why? And what about the others? And Boyd?”

“Boyd’s here, too? I don’t know -” Lydia yelped when Kevin yanked her back, slamming the small door shut.

He nodded towards the cell. “We found those two after we attacked the Alpha pack a few months ago. Apparently, the Alphas believed that we would kill Erica and Boyd anyway and left them behind. You know, we’re going to do trial runs on the werewolves here. Maybe we’ll use the antidote on one of your friends. That would be nice,” Kevin mused.

“You bastard,” Lydia whispered.

Kevin clicked his tongue. “Does your mother know you use those words? At any rate,” he continued when Lydia glared at him, “we’ll find out soon enough if your immunity works.”

“Kevin.”

Lydia and Kevin both turned to see Marcus heading towards them.

“What is it?” Kevin asked.

“Olivia needs to talk to you about the antidote,” Marcus replied.

Kevin nodded. “Alright. Do me a favor and take Lydia back to her cell for me.”

Marcus took Lydia’s arm. “Sure thing,” he said as he began to walk away.

Lydia trailed after him. The rope was chafing her wrists, and her ankle throbbed. Of course, when she’d decided to wear her highest heels, she’d been kidnapped and dragged all over. Still, she supposed that wearing any type of shoe was better than wearing none and stepping on something.

“Can you go slower?” Lydia asked as she stumbled.

“I can carry you,” Marcus offered, leering down at her with a wicked glint in his eyes.

The teen shuddered. “I’ll walk.” She tried to distance herself from Marcus. With her hands tied in front of her and his firm grip on her upper arm, that was difficult to do. Lydia could feel his hand brushing against the side of her breast, and she tasted bile in the back of her throat.

“You know, Lydia, if we can’t use your blood directly in killing the werewolves, there are other things that we can try,” Marcus said. “Maybe it will make other people immune to the bite. If that doesn’t work, then we can see if immunity can be inherited.”

A feeling of dread settled in the pit of Lydia’s stomach. “Inherited?” she echoed weakly. “You’re going to check my parents’ blood?”

“We could do that, although that wasn’t what I had in mind. Even if your parents aren’t immune, there’s nothing that says your children won’t have the immunity. You, Lydia,” Marcus continued, “could potentially become the mother to a new breed of hunters.”

Lydia’s blood ran cold. “You would impregnate me?”

“Now you got it. That’s exactly what we would do.” They arrived at the cell, and Marcus held the door open. “Get inside.”

Hurriedly, she ducked past him, hoping that he wouldn’t try touching her or follow her in. Lydia had no idea if anyone would hear her if she screamed, or if anyone would care enough to come to her aid.

When Marcus left, Lydia released a pent-up breath. She was safe. For now, at least. Frustrated tears gathered in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. The pack would find her, she told herself for the hundredth time. She had to believe in that.

-+-+-

Somehow, Lydia had managed to fall asleep. The door as it creaked open woke her up, and she quickly shifted into a sitting position in case it was Marcus. Kevin was framed in the doorway instead, but Lydia still didn’t fully relax her guard. Kevin was smirking, and she doubted that was a good thing. A woman came in behind Kevin. Olivia, maybe? Or some other female hunter?

“How are you, Lydia?” Kevin asked.

Lydia tilted her chin up. “I’m fine.” Her stomach growled just then, and she flushed as the man chuckled.

“Olivia here will take you to the bathroom, then you can come back and eat,” Kevin said as Olivia handed him a tray.

Lydia’s mouth watered, and her stomach growled again. Rising to her feet, she crossed over to Olivia, who took hold of the rope still tied around Lydia’s hands. At least it wasn’t too tight, though her fingers were beginning to feel a bit tingly. Upon arriving at the bathroom, Olivia removed the rope, and Lydia carefully rubbed at her reddened wrists. Some of the skin was chafing, and it was sure to bleed if the rope stayed on.

“Do you need any feminine products?” Olivia asked.

Lydia shook her head, then frowned. She should have gotten her period a few days ago. It had to be the stress. Stress always made her period late. After washing her hands, Lydia waited for Olivia to tie her hands.

Olivia scrutinized her. “I’ll leave the rope off if you promise not to run.”

“I promise,” Lydia said quickly. Olivia still took her by the arm, but Lydia didn’t mind as long as that rope was off.

Kevin raised an eyebrow when they came back. “Look at that. You’ve graduated to no rope.”

Lydia touched her wrists but made no reply. She sat on the bed and took the tray of food that was offered to her. She was starving but forced herself to eat slowly. It would do no good if she threw it up because she ate too fast.

Kevin had remained behind, and Lydia couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as he just stared at her. Marcus’ words filtered back to her, and she shuddered. Surely Kevin wouldn’t touch her like that. His wife was the best friend of Lydia’s mother.

“Lydia,” Kevin said thoughtfully, “do you know what the hormone hCG is?”

She gave him a confused look. “It stands for human chorionic gonadotropin. It’s a hormone that’s produced during pregnancy.”

He nodded, “You know the blood we took from you earlier? We ran all sorts of tests on it, just to see if there was anything different we could tell from that. Do you know what we found?”

Shaking her head slowly, Lydia clenched her fists in her lap. The smirk on Kevin’s face only made her apprehensive.

“Your hCG levels were higher than what they should be. Congratulations, Lydia. You’re going to have a baby.”

Lydia’s face paled as shock ripped through her. “Oh, my God.” The room spun, and all she could hear was the sound of her pulse roaring through her ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peter sneaks into the ladies' dressing room at the mall to save Lydia from hunters, and makes her uncomfortable. He later buys her a dress that she wears in this chapter. Someone is shot trying to save Lydia from being kidnapped, and one of the male kidnappers is a major creep who slings her over his shoulder to carry her. He also vaguely threatens that they might rape her (as a side not, they do not, although this particular baddie leers at Lydia and manages to touch her breasts at one point). They forcibly draw some of Lydia's blood in order to test it. If I forgot anything, please let me know!


End file.
